Hail Mary
by Crooked Moonsault
Summary: Kim and Ron are students at the Univ. of Upperton.  Ron has begun his collegiate football career, while Kim copes with his choice and prepares for a sorority football game.  During their treks, they meet a forgotten football star of Middleton's past.
1. This Fire Burns

Greetings, everyone!

A little personal backstory here. I had originally started this story a little over six years ago under a different handle. However, I have since totally forgotten the password to that account. Also in that time, I never did quite get back on the ball of continuing that version of the story. Now, I have decided to revisit the idea of the story I had all that time ago.

This story to me is more or less gaining a bit more writing experience when it comes to fan fiction, or even fiction for that matter. In fact, this first chapter of the story pretty much has double the word count of the two chapters I wrote for the original version of this story. I'm rather proud of that.

A couple of things worth noting: I did decide to place Upperton and Middleton in Colorado for the story's sake, since I know there's not a general consensus on where these places exist in the realm of the show. The choice of sending Ron and Kim both to Upperton will be explained in the next chapter, as well.

This first chapter deals with the introduction of the main original character I am using for this story. It is a bit lengthy in terms of detail, but a lot of the key moments in the story will also more than likely be detailed. So, I'm hoping there are a few football fans that will enjoy the method I am enacting in this story to craft some of the action scenes.

Also, the musical selection that is included in this chapter is a song called "This Fire Burns" by Killswitch Engage.

Additionally, I'll also give the disclaimers that I don't own Kim Possible or any of the characters within the show's universe. Those belong to Disney, who I hope will not break my legs for using their property. Also, all original characters, teams, leagues, etc. are purely fictional and created by myself. Any relation to a person living or dead is purely coincidental.

That being said, I hope you guys enjoy the story. Please R/R, for all the feedback really drives me to keep things going at a good pace! Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One: This Fire Burns<strong>

It was in the late-afternoon hours of a mid-September day in Upperton, Colorado. The sky above showcased a mix of sunshine and stray clouds. A faint breeze swept across an empty former soccer field, the goalposts on each end stood on the opposite ends of the field, each covered with traces of rust. A chain link fence surrounded the field's perimeter. The wear and tear of the pitch was apparent to those who stepped onto it, divots and dead grass littering the entire area of play. Within these chained confines, a group of people gathered at the center of the field.

"You hear anything from him?" asked a member of the group.

"He texted me just a few minutes ago," replied another member. "He was just getting off shift."

"He better hurry up, we ain't got much daylight left."

"Chill, dude. We got just enough time to get a little something in."

"Well, I didn't drive my ass all the way out here for a one possession game."

Another member chimed in, "He also has to do his pre-game ritual, too." A collective groan came from the group upon this reminder.

* * *

><p>Five minutes down the road from the field, a beaten up station wagon rumbled down the one-lane road. The car's black paint was chipping from the bottom of the vehicle; the rumble of the engine could more than likely be heard from a mile away given its state.<p>

Behind the wheel of the vehicle sat a man in his mid-20's. His medium-length brown hair was parted from his left side. He was clean-shaven and of a particularly average build, not overly muscular but by no means out of shape. His one hand gripped the steering wheel while the other was unbuttoning the yellow Bueno Nacho uniform that he was currently sporting.

As he unbuttoned, his eyes darted back and forth from the road in front of him to the surroundings of the inside of his vehicle. Litter was all over the inside of the car, from hamburger wrappers to empty plastic soda bottles. Through all of the mess strewn about, which shifted every time he turned the vehicle, he couldn't spot the item which he was looking for.

"I just had it," he quietly spoke to himself, finally undoing the final button of his uniform and sliding it from off of his right shoulder. "It didn't just walk out of the car and disappear."

He then returned his focus back to the road.

_SCREEEEEEEECH!_

Stop sign.

He gritted his teeth as he came to a sudden halt at the sign, both hands tightly gripped on the steering wheel. He checked both sides of the four-way stop, seeing no vehicles stopped at either end. He let out a bit of a relieved sigh upon seeing no other traffic around to see his driving gaffe and proceeded on his way.

"Focus, Mike," he softly spoke to himself. "Don't need another fender bender right now, you can't afford it."

Upon his return to accelerating the vehicle, he spotted a glint from down on the passenger's side floor.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, quickly reaching down to the floor to pick up a compact disc that managed to come unhidden following his last stop. He blew on the content side of the disc, then flipping it around to do the same to the label end. He slid the disc into the CD player that he had installed into the vehicle, sacrificing the FM radio that had once been in place in the center of the console. He then turned the volume of the device up a little, pressing "Play".

The next sound that came from the speakers was the thrashing chords of an electric guitar, followed shortly thereafter by a long scream. He turned the volume up a few more notches before the first part of the song kicked in.

-All I've ever wanted was destiny to be fulfilled-  
>-It is in my hands, I must not fail, I must not fail-<p>

_"Mike McCage, ladies and gentlemen, has to be one of the best quarterbacks that Middleton High School has ever seen…"_

He remembered the radio calls of greatness. He remembered being on top of the world. He remembered feeling invincible.

-Even through the darkest days-  
>-This fire burns always-<br>-This fire burns always-

_"ASN is projecting Mike McCage to be one of the top ten quarterback recruits of the season…"_

The future was planned. He had a free ride through college by playing the game he had loved since he was just a small child. He couldn't have asked for anything more.

-This is the proving ground-  
>-Misery begins to rise-<p>

His three years as quarterback for Middleton had been the highest point in his career. He set season school records for passing yards, completion percentage and touchdowns.

-Turn away from yesterday-  
>-Tomorrow's in my eyes, oh-<p>

Highly touted as one of the best quarterback prospects in the country, he went into Middleton's first game of his Senior year with the highest of confidence. A state championship had not only been predicted for Middleton, it was expected.

-Nevermore to be held down-  
>-By the wings of history-<p>

_"Second and five, ball on the Middleton fourty-four yard line…"_

-Nevermore to be cast aside-  
>-This day is mine-<p>

"_Ball snapped to McCage, he steps back in the pocket. Blitz is coming!"_

-Even through the darkest days-  
>-This fire burns always-<br>-This fire burns always-

"_The pocket collapses, McCage has been sa—THE BALL IS LOOSE!"_

-I will not be denied in this final hour-  
>-I will not be denied, this day is mine-<p>

_"Middleton recovers the football, but folks, it does not look good for Mike McCage. He is down on the field and he is in pain."_

-This passion inside me is burning, is burning-  
>-This passion inside me is burning, is burning-<p>

That night was burned into his memory, never to be forgotten. He remembered being wheeled into the locker room, his knee swelling to the size of a balloon as the team athletic doctors scurried around the locker room to attend to his gruesome injury.

-Even through the darkest days-  
>-This fire burns always, always-<p>

_"Breaking news coming in to us here at ASN College Football Nightly. Middleton athletic officials have announced that top quarterback prospect Mike McCage suffered a torn ACL in the first quarter of Middleton's Friday night game. He is out for the season…"_

And just like that, it was over. The free ride, the confidence, the popularity, the fame: Gone in the matter of just two seconds. Middleton would finish the season with its first losing record in five seasons. Mike would lose out on much more than just a winning season.

-This fire burns, fire burns, always-  
>-Always, always-<p>

Mike had never lost the passion for football following his gruesome injury nearly a decade ago. Rehab for his injury nearly took a year to complete. It was the slowest year in his life. It would be almost another year before he ever touched a football again, participating in local pickup games over the last few years to scratch the competitive itch that only football could soothe. After graduating from Middleton, Mike floated around from job to job in order to make a living. There was no money for him to go to college or even attend a vocational program to get a better paying job. For the last six years, he had been employed at a local Bueno Nacho franchise and had been daytime shift manager for just the last three.

Mike pulled into the gravel parking area located just a few yards away from the field, he set the car into "park" and killed the engine. He then looked in the back seat of the vehicle, tossing his Bueno Nacho uniform onto it and grabbing a light blue Denver Stampede jersey placed just to the side of where the uniform landed. He slid the uniform on over the undershirt that he wore underneath his uniform, taking a deep breath and exiting the vehicle.

Mike stepped out of the vehicle, pressing the lock down on the inside door of the vehicle and shutting it closed. He started making his way to the field, placing the keys to his vehicle in the left front pocket of his jeans.

"Look who decided to show up!" announced one of the group members. A few laughs from the group followed the announcement.

Mike grinned slightly, walking through the lone entrance gate of the fence. "Aww, did you guys think I wouldn't show up?" he asked.

"We figured we would be waiting another four minutes for your pre-game psyche up," replied the member who had announced Mike's arrival.

"Did that on the way in," Mike explained. "Figured you guys would want to get this thing going sooner than later. Plus, I wasn't counting on a visit from the district manager today. Sorry for being late."

A few members of the group shook their head, some letting out terribly hidden chuckles behind their mouths. A younger man with short blonde hair stepped forward, pointing to Mike. "You've got the B-team, man," he said, pointing behind him and the main group at center. "I already picked my team before you got here."

Mike looked behind the blonde teen, noticing another group that formed just a few feet away from where he was standing. What he saw was a rogue's gallery of athletes standing next to each other. Three were out of shape, one red-haired kid looked like he would barely weight a hundred pounds soaking wet, and two tan-skinned twin brothers wearing matching polo shirts made up his team of gridiron warriors.

"Oh, what the f—…"

The blonde teen interrupted him before he could finish his sentence, "Hey man, next time you get here on time. Otherwise…" he looked back to Mike's team. "You get the greenhorns."

The other team let out a collective laugh, walking down to the North end of the field. Mike watched them, both hands at his sides and he glanced back to his team of misfits. He let out a sigh, starting to make his way over to them.

"Are you on our team?" asked the redheaded teen.

"I, uh…" Mike looked him over once more, thinking to himself that he might have to glue his teammate back together if the other team hit him hard enough. He looked down at the field, shaking his head, "…suppose I am," he sighed.

"Great!" the redhead beamed. "Well, we had decided that I was going the be the quarterback…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Mike interrupted, placing both of his hands up about chest level in a halt sign. "You're going to be quarterback?"

The redhead nodded. "Well, yeah. I figured that I could throw the ball better than anyone else here on the team."

Mike raised his right eyebrow to the teen, once again peering around his team to see if another candidate was worthy of helming the quarterback position. He turned his attention back to the redhead.

"Yeah, I'm going to be the quarterback today," he flatly stated, stepping around the teen and walking towards the North end of the field.

"Wait a minute!" the redhead exclaimed, starting to follow him. "Why are you the quarterback? We didn't even come to a group vote on whether you would be the quarterback! We had all decided before you got here…"

"Alright, fine!" Mike relented. "You can be the quarterback, but the second you…" he poked his left index finger into the teen's chest. "…screw up. I'm taking control of the snaps. Understood?"

The redhead beamed again, straightening up and lifting his head high. "Won't have to worry about that! I've got it all under control! Now, we've elected you to be the running back for the game, if that's fine."

Mike groaned, "Fine, fine. Let's just go and get this over with."

The redhead grabbed his shoulder; halting his forward progress, "Hang on, man! We have to do our pre-game chant!"

Mike winced upon hearing this, slowly turning back to the redhead. "Pre-game chant? I sincerely hope you're not serious."

The redhead placed his hand out in front of him, motioning with the others to come and join him. They all obliged by placing their hands on top of each others, looking over in Mike's direction to come and join in the group. Mike's look of disdain was clearly apparent to them, almost burning a hole right through them.

"I'm going to go and see who gets possession first, " Mike said, turning back and resuming his progress to the opposing team that gathered at the North end.

"On three! One, two, three…"

"_GOOOOOOO TEAM!"_

Mike rolled his eyes as he continued to walk from his teammates, "Good lord," he muttered under his breath.

The other team was huddled together, talking to each other in low voices to assemble their gameplan. The blonde teen noticed Mike approaching the group, walking out of the huddle and towards him. "You guys set?" he asked.

"For the most part," Mike nodded. "Who's getting ball first?"

"We decided to defer to you guys," the blonde responded.

"Alright, what are the rules?"

"First and goal for every possession. You either make it or you turn it over wherever you stop," the blonde explained. "Each possession starts with either a kickoff or a throw to the other team. In order to score, you have to walk through the posts at either end. Out of bounds is called if you go into the fence, nothing else." After this explanation, the blonde's expression turned into a sly grin. "By the way, who's the quarterback for your team?"

Mike took a second to gather himself, shaking his head slightly before he answered, "The redhead kid is."

This elicited a group laugh from the opposing team, followed by the blonde teen replying to Mike with a wide grin, "See? I knew he'd take our advice!"

Mike furrowed his brow at the teen, opening his mouth to say something to him. The blonde cupped his hand to his ear, awaiting Mike's response. Mike instead just let out a quick "Pfft," and returned to his arriving teammates. "Get ready for the kickoff!" the blonde shouted as Mike walked away.

Mike made a slow jog to the other end, his teammates noticing and following suit behind him. "We're getting the ball first, guys," Mike explained. "First and goal the whole way through, so make some smart plays and get as many yards as you can."

He turned back to face the North end of the field, watching two of the three soft players of the team huff and puff their way into a return position. Mike once again shook his head, realizing that he probably wasn't going to get the assistance needed to effectively run an offense. He didn't even want to even fathom the problems that would arise on defense.

"You want to take the return?" asked the redhead.

"You better believe it," Mike responded, clapping his hands together once and starting to bounce from one leg to the other. The adrenaline began to rush through his system, feeling like a thousand volts of electricity running through his body.

Showtime.

From the other end of the field, the blonde teen opposing captain ran a few steps and heaved the ball into the air towards the opposite end of the field. Mike judged the arc of the ball as it sailed his way, running up a couple of steps to meet the ball on its downward descent. He extended his arms in front of him, the ball landing in his arms. He brought the ball in with his right arm, starting to make his forward progression down the field.

"I need a block!" he shouted, starting to see the defense grow in his vision. He kept running, but nobody came in front of him to guide his way through the wave of defenders. Shortly after his catch, two defenders met him from both sides. Mike fell to the ground with the weight of two men crashing on top of him. The men stood up after accomplishing their defensive action, allowing Mike to dust himself off and get back up on his feet.

"Where the hell was my blocking?" Mike barked, looking at his team. Each member of his team glanced back and forth at each other for a moment, trying to see who would be voted as the scapegoat for the lousy return.

"I thought you were going to call for a fair catch," piped the redhead.

Mike looked at the teen disbelievingly, "Fair catch? Why in the hell would I call for a fair catch for a kickoff return, let alone one in a _PICKUP GAME?_" His last two words punctuated with a hint of frustration to the teen, who looked back down at the ground.

"I thought that's what they do on TV," he explained. "They do that wavy arm thing and they don't have to get tackled."

Mike rubbed his temples, letting out a long and loud sigh. "Okay, fine. Whatever. It's first down, dude. Let's see what you can do."

The team formed into their offensive assignments: The twins both standing by each other in wide receiver designations, the three portly players acting as the line for both offense and defense, leaving the overconfident redhead as quarterback and Mike as the running back in the backfield in a Shotgun formation.

Mike lined up to the right hand side of the redhead, taking a quick look over the defensive scheme. He spotted only one safety in the back, one man near the twin receiver set and two more in the box behind the line.

"Be careful," he quietly spoke to the redhead. "I think they might blitz here."

"Don't worry," the redhead said, seeming to try and relax Mike's fears. "I've totally got this under control." Mike smirked, placing both of his hands on his knees as he bent down slightly.

"Here we go!" shouted the redhead. "Hike the ball on three! One…"

Mike raised his brow once more to the actions being performed in front of him. _Surely, this kid can't be serious_, he thought to himself.

"…Two…"

Mike saw the defense tense up, ready to go full throttle upon the redhead's next word. He prepared for the worst.

"Three!"

The defense crashed the line hard, the left defensive lineman bowling over his assignment and making a path towards the quarterback. The redhead responded the way Mike thought he world.

"OH GEEZ!" the redhead shrieked, starting to run backwards away from the chasing linesman. Mike began to give chase towards the two, waving his arms frantically. "Throw the ball here!" he shouted. The two twin receivers, instead of running routes in attempt to help the situation in any way possible, stood and watched the chaos unfold with a look of bewilderment.

The redhead kept running backwards, finally trying to make an evasive maneuver to elude his pursuer. Once he had a second, he made a weak pass to Mike on his right side. Mike started to make his way to the direction of the pass, then suddenly stopped and let the ball land in front of him.

"Incomplete!" Mike announced, walking forward a few steps and picking the ball up.

"What are you doing?" the redhead asked, making a slow jog to him. "You could've caught that! You didn't even make an attempt to catch that ball!"

"Because we would have lost yards had I caught that," Mike explained. "Hell, if you would've got yourself tackled we'd have given up a safety."

The redhead reached to take the ball away from Mike, in which Mike responded to tightening his grip on the ball and jerking it slightly back into his possession.

"I don't think so, kid," he said. "I think I'll take it over from here. Go ahead and take running back duties." The redhead huffed at this, shaking his head and walking along side Mike as they returned to the group huddle.

Mike looked around at the huddled players, leaning into the center of the group and speaking in a quiet, yet harsh tone. "Listen. You guys can fiddle around all you want, but I want to win this damn thing." This caused some rather uneasy looks between the group. "If you really want to play, start by making some god damn plays out there." He pointed at the two twin receivers, "You two need to get it together and run routes. I don't care how fast you are or where you go, just get open." He pointed to the linesman, "Get me some protection out there, I'm not the only one who needs a little time to get things going," he pointed back at the receivers again, "These guys need it to."

"What about me?" piped the redhead.

Mike looked at him, standing straight up and placing his hands on his sides. "You? You need to just stay out of my way." The redhead looked away from him, giving a slight nod of both acceptance and defeat.

"We'll go on a 'hike', none of this countdown stuff," he looked again at the redhead. "Second down and we've got a long way to go, gentlemen. Let's do this."

Mike gave a clap of his hands as he parted from the group. The rest of the team lined up similarly to the last play, with Mike and the redhead swapping spots.

"New quarterback!" one of the opposing linemen shouted. Upon hearing this, the defensive scheme changed quickly. One of the linemen in the box stepped back a little, appearing to play as a second safety to the play.

Mike peered around the altered defensive scheme, darting back to the twin receivers once again standing next to each other. "Split it up!" he barked, pointing their way. The two twins looked at each other, taking a few seconds before one of them ran to the other side of the line. He then looked at his running back, speaking in a hushed tone, "Hit the flat near the right sideline, be ready for the pass." The redhead acknowledged the play with a quick nod.

Mike raised his hands out in front of him, giving one more glance to the defensive assignments. He then focused on his center.

"HIKE!"

The ball snapped to him, gripping it in his right hand and covering the top with his left. He began to bounce around in the pocket, surveying the progress of his two receivers. The line was holding up at that moment, allowing him to make his proper reads. His mind went into a state of rapid thought.

One receiver ran straight down the left side of the field.

_Not enough speed. I'd overthrow him._

His eyes darted to the other receiver on the right, watching him make a quick stop and run a side route through the middle of the field.

_Good, good. Get some open field ahead of you, man._

He then spotted one of the safeties move in and take away the open field ahead of the receiver.

_Damnit. Alright, move back to the ri-…_

He suddenly heard the groan of one of his linemen, who toppled head over heels to the ground just a few feet in front of him. The defensive lineman was now beginning to close in on him.

_Time's up._

Mike reared back and threw a pass to the open redhead on the right side flat, who bobbled the reception at first. He quickly regained his composure and secured the ball in his grasp, starting to dart his way upfield. Mike shook off his defensive pursuer and started to make his way behind the running back to attempt to make a few blocks from the side. He was late though, as one of the safeties made the play to bring the running back down near the halfway point of the field.

Mike reached the point of the tackle, extending his hand to the redhead as he was on the ground. "Nice run," he commented as the redhead placed his hand into Mike's, helping him back to his feet. He gave Mike a small grin as walked with him back to the group.

The group gathered again, Mike once again leaning in towards the center. "Alright, that was a good play," he said. "But it's still third down and we've still got a half of a field to go." He looked at his receiving duo. "Both of you, slants across the middle. I want to see if they try and go for the back again if we fake a flat pass like the last play." He looked back at his running back. "Same drill, just act like it's coming your way." The back nodded.

Another clap from Mike signaled the end of their play call selection. Once again, the same Shotgun formation was shown to the defense, and the defense showed the previous play's defense in response. Mike did notice one of the linesmen pointing towards the right side of the field, perhaps giving the linebackers and safeties a heads up that the offense might try and repeat the same play.

_All according to plan,_ Mike thought.

Mike kicked his right foot up slightly, placing it back down onto the ground. He spread his hands out in front of him, ready for the next snap.

"HIKE!"

The ball was snapped into Mike's awaiting hands, clutching it into his grasp tightly as he watched the play form in front of his eyes. The offensive linemen contained their defensive counterparts tightly this time around, buying enough time for the plan to fall into place.

_Slants, slants. Come on guys, give me something._

He once again glanced to the right, seeing his back wide open for the second straight play. He took the ball into his right arm and made a throwing motion to the back. The defense bit, sending the middle linebacker and a safety to cover the intended target. Mike finished his motion, holding on to the ball and clutching it back into both of his hands.

_Psyche._

He glanced back to the middle of the field, viewing the mismatch now created in the center of the field. Both receivers were the same height, however one of them was taller than the remaining safety on the far left end of the field. Mike reared back his arm, throwing a deep arching pass down the left-center of the field.

The ball sailed in a perfect spiral into the air, hitting its apex and beginning its downward arch to the intended target. The receiver looked behind him, trying to make a quick judgment call on where he should be to complete the catch. His defender was close by on his right hand side, trying to jockey for position to make a defense play. The ball closed in on the duo, making the time for a decision that more imminent. In that split second, the receiver stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face the pass, bending down very slightly and jumping upward into the air. His defender didn't notice the stop at first, running slightly past the receiver. The defender stumbled, trying to get back into position to disrupt the pass. The ball met with the receiver's fully upward extended hands, clutching the ball back into his chest as the defender crashed in from behind and tackled him to the ground.

"Yes!" Mike emphatically shouted, pumping his fist in the air as he started jogging to the new line of scrimmage just less than five yards away from the goalposts.

The blonde came running towards the spot of the completed play, giving his safety a quick shove, "What the hell are you doing?" he barked.

The safety responded with a shove back, "Me? What are _you_ doing?" he angrily responded. "You bit on the fake! Any other time, you'd be back here helping me out!"

Mike couldn't help but grin at the seeming lack of leadership on the opposing side. He knew that it would be just a matter of time before the explosion of egos would begin to overtake the team.

The blonde stepped away from the confrontation, slitting his eyes at Mike as he spoke, "Fourth down, McCage. You ain't scoring on me."

Mike chuckled, "What? Are _you_ going to stop me?" he asked, mockingly.

Before he could respond, the blonde was pulled back into his group huddle. Mike also returned to his, talking to his team with confidence.

"Alright, here's the deal," he started. "I need a full block, two receiver set here." He pointed to the redhead, "Don't need you to be a hero, just give me some help up front," the redhead nodded. "Receivers, quick slant routes should do it. Just try and get in front of the goalposts however you can," the receivers nodded. "Line, you guys did awesome that last play. Keep it up and we'll be ahead," the line shared a quick round of fist bumps upon their glowing review. With that, he looked around once more to his team as he spoke, "Let's get first blood here, gang."

The group erupted with a audible show of excitement and pride. They clapped their hands in unison and made their way to form the line of scrimmage near the ball, which had been centered on the field of play. The goalposts stood right in front of them, along with the defense scheme that was looking to swing the momentum in their favor with a big stop.

The Shotgun formation was once again shown to the defense, the same in the two plays prior. Mike brought his right hand up to his mouth, licking his index and middle finger quickly before placing his hands in front of him. He glared at the blonde, who in turn returned a glare of his own to the quarterback.

_No pressure._

"HIKE!"

The ball snapped to Mike, taking two steps back and giving himself a bit more room behind the line. He waited for the receivers to make their moves, each running forward a few steps and turning back towards him. However, each were covered by two defenders.

_Nothing there._

Mike noticed his right linesman losing his battle with his defender, looking to come around and make a route straight for him. He stepped back to the left slightly, looking to buy just a little extra time for something to come about.

"You're mine, McCage!" yelled the defender as he pushed his matchup down to the turf.

_Train on the tracks._

Before he could make another adjustment to counter the rushing linesman, his redhead running back sprinted just in front of him and delivered a running shoulder block right into the chest of the defender. The defender let out a "Ooomph!" as he crashed down to the grass.

_Good save, kid._

He stepped back out to the right, noticing that a large area of real estate now opened on the right side of the line as the defender slowly reached to one knee to gather himself. The redhead made his way up to the line, looking behind to Mike as if to give him a hint of what should happen next.

_Let's see if I can still burn some rubber._

Mike caught on to the impromptu gameplan of the redhead, making his way to get behind him. Once he was close enough, the redhead began his progress past the line of scrimmage. He acted as a running roadblock ahead of Mike, making a path towards the goalposts to secure the first score of the game. As the redhead went to make another block, he was clutched by the incoming defender and taken to the ground hard.

_Flying solo now._

Mike saw just one defender left in front of him, the blonde teen. The blonde hunkered down, his arms extended to try and trap Mike into a tackle as he started to close in on him. Mike saw this, reacting instinctively as made a quick stop in his tracks. Upon this sudden and quick halt, he planted his right foot out and swung his body around to his left. The momentum spun him around, taking the blonde off balance for a second as he tried to reposition and make the tackle. Mike felt the blonde tug on the left side of his jersey as he moved the ball into his right hand. He took his left arm and stiffly planted his palm into the face of the teen, pushing him off and forcing him to relinquish the grip on the jersey as he fell onto the pitch.

Mike made a low dive in-between the goalposts, sliding on his stomach into the designated goal area. His team let out a victorious cheer as they saw him score, some applauding his effort as they rushed in to meet him. Mike's teammates all came to offer their help to assist him off of the ground, all either slapping him on the back or congratulating him on the play. As he rose, he saw the blonde also returning to his feet. Of course, this was done without the help of his teammates.

Mike walked toward the blonde, huffing from the last play. Once he stood in front of him, he flashed him the widest of grins, "B-Team is up on the A-Team, buddy."

The blonde flashed him a look of disdain, quickly turning and walking back with the rest of his team down to the other end of the field for their upcoming possession. Mike chuckled, turning around and looking at the ragtag team of misfits with a sense of pride.

"You just gotta love the underdogs!" he said in a proud tone to his team, who each responded in their own form of agreement with Mike's statement.

This is how Mike spent a lot of his free time. He knew that the feelings and emotions he felt while playing with Middleton would never reach that peak again. Deep inside, he wished it all would have ended far differently than it had. But, he still had the game and he knew how to play it well. In time, he knew this would be a phase that would ultimately pass. But until then, something itched at him that told him that he still had something to prove.

The fire still burned.


	2. Ridiculousness

**Chapter Two: Ridiculousness**

The morning hours on campus of the University of Upperton tended to be a bit on the hectic side. Students either walking or running down the sidewalks and walkways of the campus in an effort to make it to their assigned classes on time, not wanting to fall behind just nearly a month into the new Fall semester. However, in this month, the challenges of balancing social lives on campus and keeping a nose to the grindstone when it came to studying was starting to already bog down a handful of the freshmen class.

The campus property was full of life; trees and foliage decorated the campus in the late-Summer weather. The turn of Fall was just right around the corner, which was more apparent with the students who were at one point the week prior sporting t-shirts and shorts. This week, some students sported university sweatshirts during their walks to and from class.

The campus community was similar to any other university in America. Fraternity and sorority houses proudly displayed their insignias on the front of their houses. The late night socials at these complexes might get on the nerve of some students, but became the norm just a few weeks into the semester.

Kim stepped from behind the front door of a large two-story brick house, adorned with the Greek letters for Omega Kappa Phi in white above the entryway. She held a stack of four books and a notebook in her right arm, leaning the door open with her left hand.

"Hey Mo!" she called back into the house. "Let's get going or we'll both be late!"

The entire summer for Kim had been more or less a blur of activity. Kim's reluctance to accept the offer of the university had long been a topic of debate between her and her mother. Kim wanted to blaze her own career path, realizing that the sky was the limit when it came to her academic choices. Her mother, on the other hand, was intent in trying to convince Kim in the career path she had chosen some time ago. She noted to Kim that if she decided to take her recommended path, there would be a higher chance of her helping her daughter in future employment opportunities.

Before Kim could really put any heavy thought into her mother's scenario, her reluctance to attend Upperton quickly dwindled upon hearing that Ron had been offered a scholarship from the university to play on the football team. She had her heart set on pursuing her education overseas, but was quickly met with the begging and pleading of her boyfriend to join him closer to home. She eventually gave in to his requests, accepting that the two belonged together during their trek into entering the real world.

Just a few weeks prior, Kim was invited to join the Omega Kappa Phi sorority as a legacy. Kim's mother was a member of the sorority during her time at the university. Kim swooned nearly half of the sororities during the start of the rush phase, her reputation both in a personal and scholarly standing had put her at the top of the lists of many of them. It was ultimately her legacy status that made her decision in accepting the invitation of Omega Kappa Phi.

"I'm coming!" Monique shouted, running down the staircase with books in hand. "I just had to wait for the printer to finish printing these papers."

Monique immediately accepted her offer to Upperton upon hearing Kim's choice, wanting to keep tabs on her best friend through college. Her interest in criminal justice had also swayed her choice, hearing that Upperton offered one of the best programs in the state. Monique was accepted into Omega Kappa Phi, as well. It was rumored that had she not been associated with Kim, she might not have been admitted. Of course, that was all rumor and speculation that Monique preferred to shake off when it came to light in the discussion circles of campus.

"You really like to procrastinate, don't you?" Kim asked.

"As if!" Monique responded, making her way out the doorway to meet Kim outside. "But it doesn't help when the printer takes an eon to warm up, either."

"Suuuure," Kim drew out with a grin. "I know for a fact that you were up until 2AM, cursing some internet search engine for not pulling up the information you needed."

Monique sighed, "Yeah, you can't rely on that Cyberpedia at all. So much stuff people put out that has no true factual basis to support it."

"You really trusted that site?" Kim asked, starting to make her way down the stone pathway that led to and from the front door of the sorority house.

"I had much of a choice?" Monique shrugged, following closely behind Kim. "Besides, the quickest path to knowledge also happens to reside in a place with a bed just a hop, skip and a jump away."

Kim nodded, "Yeah, that's a good point. Did it at least turn out well?"

"That," Monique started, pointing at the report. "Is yet to be determined."

Kim rolled her eyes, smirking, "Well, good luck with that."

"So, what's it like having a normal life?" Monique asked.

Kim seemed a bit puzzled at her friend's inquiry, "Normal life? What do you mean by that?"

"Not having to save the world on a weekly basis, duh!" Monique responded. "No Drakken, no Shego…"

"Heaven!" Kim exclaimed, throwing her arms out to the sides emphatically. "I thought college life was going to be a pain. But when compared to that hassle? Piece of cake."

"Sounds like you really miss the old life," Monique chuckled.

"So not," Kim responded, smiling at her friend.

As Kim and Monique reached closer to their destination near the central hub of the campus, Kim noticed a group of students huddled around one of the campus' newsstands..

"Hey, hang on a second," Kim said to Monique, making her way to the stand. "Can you give me a quick hand here?"

"Sure," Monique agreed, following behind Kim as she made her way around to her left side and reaching down for the door to the stand. She pulled open the door, allowing Kim to reach in and snag the latest edition of _The Bearcat Courier_. "Thanks," Kim said, taking the paper and adding it to her pile of books. "Ron is the featured player this week for the paper's freshman player bios."

"Oh?" Monique responded with a hint of interest. "What's it all about?"

"Well, they wanted to talk about his rushing record at Middleton," Kim explained. "Then they wanted to talk about what his major was, why he started playing football, his other hobbies and interests…"

"His relationship status?" Monique interrupted, raising her brow to Kim.

Kim looked at Monique for a second, glancing back down to the front page of the paper before she responded, "Well, I'm not sure if they asked him that. But what does that matter?"

"You don't want half of the female campus population drooling over your Ronnie, would you?" Monique responded with a sly smile.

Kim let out a small gasp as she lightly slapped Monique's shoulder, "Oh! You so better not be part of that female population," Kim chuckled. "Remember, I know where you sleep…" she followed this with a mock look of intimidation, "…and I know your weaknesses."

"Okay, okay! Chill out!" Monique laughed. "I'm just sayin', for the sake of any female who might come up and try to strike a conversation up with him, perhaps he could mention something about you."

"I'm not the jealous type," Kim said. "I wouldn't care if a girl came up and talked to Ron. Just as long as she keeps her hands when I can see them."

"And can duck your spinning heel kick," Monique added.

Kim shot Monique a half-scowl at that last comment, turning back from the stand and making her way towards one of the benches located near a student directory.

"Oh, don't be so uptight!" Monique said, following behind her. "Why do you take things so seriously, anyways?"

Kim sighed, taking a seat on the bench. She placed her pile of books on her lap as she looked down at the ground, "What if Ron does find someone else while we're here?" she sadly spoke.

Monique took a seat beside her, placing her arm around her best friend, "Hey," she started. "You know that won't happen. You and Ron are meant for each other, you know? Why would Ron want to throw away the relationship you two have had over the years?"

"I know…" Kim started, scratching the back of her neck as she continued, "It's just that things have changed a bit over the summer, I wasn't expecting Ron to become a big deal over this whole football thing," she then looked at Monique with a slight frown on her face, "The only reason he got involved with football to begin with was because of me."

"But look at what else happened when he joined the team," Monique responded. "Ron's confidence level shot up to levels of ridiculousness! The football team was what he needed to break out of that shell of his over the years. You should be happy for him."

"I never said that I wasn't," Kim said. "I'm glad he was able to have that experience. But I didn't think that it was going to go any further than high school. I wasn't expecting him to be a quasi-celebrity when he got on campus, either." She sighed. "Maybe he'll think that I'm boring…"

"Ron's not that type of guy," Monique said, looking back down at the campus newspaper that sat on the top of Kim's pile. "You just need to relax and stop being so paranoid about that kind of stuff." Monique then quickly reached out and swiped the paper from Kim's pile. "Yoink!"

Kim jumped slightly at Monique's action, "Hey!" she exclaimed, leaning towards her in an attempt to regain possession of the paper.

Monique jerked the paper out of Kim's reach, pulling open the front page of the paper and skimming its contents, "Let's see here, what page is that bio on…"

"Monique!" Kim snipped. "Let me see that paper right now!"

Monique ignored Kim's request, continuing to read over the contents of the paper. "Aha!" she perked, flipping three pages of the paper until her eyes lit up in recognition of Ron's photo on the corresponding page. "Ronald Stoppable."

Kim huffed, scooting over a bit closer to Monique to at least get a glimpse of the page as she read it aloud.

"'A freshman from Middleton High School in Middleton, Colorado, Ron Stoppable set the single-season rushing record for Middleton by amassing 2,018 yards from scrimmage during his senior season at running back, which was also his first year as part of the team. Stoppable led Middleton to the state championship, where Middleton fell to Marion in overtime.'"

"I still say that one call against us was complete crap," Kim shook her head.

Monique continued, "'Ron accepted a scholarship to Upperton over the summer, looking to pursue a career in Communications and currently holds the second-string halfback position on the Bearcats' football team. Ron's interests include video games, movies and music. When asked why he chose Upperton, Ron told us, 'I wanted to be closer to home and pursue something that I had a genuine interest in: Radio.'"

"He's the next King of the Top 40 Countdown, you know?" Kim joked, nudging Monique's side with her elbow as Monique went to conclude the article.

"'My decision to come to Upperton was also made easier when my girlfriend decided to accept her offer, as well,' Stoppable explained. 'I just couldn't see us being apart for so long, so it was a no-brainer to come and be with her here.'"

Kim's face sported the widest of smiles upon hearing that last sentence, "Aww," she cooed. "He's so sweet."

Monique smiled at Kim, folding the paper back up in her lap and handing it back to Kim. "See? What did I tell you? All worried over nothin'!"

"Yeah," Kim agreed, taking the paper and placing it back into her pile. "I don't know what gets into me sometimes."

"Whatever it is, cut it out," Monique said. "You and Ron are going to make it through this whole thing together. Both the good things and the bad things."

"Ugh!" a voice came from behind them. "The good and bad things? Did you forget to mention the _ugly_ while you were at it?"

Both Kim and Monique turned around to see a tan-skinned female with long brown hair standing behind the bench, arms folded in front of her chest and sporting a look of disgust towards the two.

"Well, glad to see you too, Bonnie," Kim said sarcastically. "Gee, how was your summer?"

Monique tried to cover her mouth as she let out a small snicker. Bonnie, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes to Kim's question, "Very funny, Possible." She looked over Kim's shoulder, noticing the newspaper on the top of her book pile. "Oh, I saw your boyfriend's little article in the paper," she then took her index finger and motioned it towards her mouth as she stuck out her tongue, "Gag me with a spoon!"

"Bonnie, lay off," Monique snipped. "It's not like your boyfriend is doing anything of any importance, anyways. He couldn't _buy_ an article in the paper to make him look interesting."

"Pfft," Bonnie scoffed. "Apparently, you have no idea who my new boyfriend is now."

"Wait," Kim said with a perplexed look on her face. "You mean you're not with Senior Junior anymore?"

"Way behind on the times, Kimmie," Bonnie shot back. "I just so happen to have this university's star quarterback around my little finger."

Kim's jaw dropped, "What? You're dating Rodney Tate now?"

"You catch on quick," Bonnie responded. "I mean, c'mon. Like I'm going to date someone who still mooches off of his dad. How pathetic."

"I see some things never change," Monique commented, rolling her eyes at Bonnie.

"Whatever, you're just jealous," Bonnie quickly responded, almost feeling like she had to immediately defend her choice to both women. "And by the way, Possible." Kim glared back up at Bonnie as she said her name, "Tell your boyfriend to just quit the team. They won't play him anymore this season, not after what happened last week."

Kim placed her books down on the bench, raising herself from the bench to her feet to speak to Bonnie at eye level, "Listen, Bon-Bon," she growled. "My boyfriend might not be the big shot quarterback, but he puts as much effort into football as anyone else on the team."

"Riiight," Bonnie grinned. "So, when we needed him to score from the two-yard line last week, how did that turn out?"

Kim narrowed her eyes at Bonnie, her fists beginning to clinch. "He tried his best, Bonnie."

"He _lost_ five yards," Bonnie shot back. "He had three shots to do it and he lost yards on each play. He cost us that game."

"Oh yeah?" Kim countered. "If my memory serves me correctly, there was still one more play after Ron's last run." She stroked her chin, mocking a look of deep thought, "Hmm, I wonder who was responsible for that last incomplete pass of the game?"

"That wasn't his fault!" Bonnie raised her tone. "That stupid receiver didn't run fast enough to catch his pass!"

Kim scoffed at her response, "The pass wasn't even close! It sailed into the first row behind the endzone!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Monique interrupted, standing up to try and play peacemaker between the two. "Bonnie, just leave. You're doing nothing but trying to stir the pot."

Bonnie stuck her nose up to Monique, "Fine, I'll leave. Besides, I don't want to be seen with you two dweebs out in public," she said, taking her right hand and brushing her hair back from her face, "It's bad for my image."

"Image?" Kim shot back, her arms crossed. "I think you've done enough already by clinging on to Rodney Tate not even a quarter way through the semester. To me, that's desperate."

"I could care less what you think it is, Possible," Bonnie responded. "Come this time next year, I'll be going to Los Angeles with him when he gets drafted to the PFL." She started to turn away from the two, but then glanced back at Kim to shoot one more bit of verbal ammunition before she left, "And you'll be stuck here, wasting your time with your loser boyfriend."

Kim made a step to follow Bonnie as she left, but felt the grip of Monique's hand on her shoulder holding her back from making any further progress. "Not worth it, Kim," Monique said.

Kim let out a frustrated sigh as she went back to the bench to gather her pile of books back into her hands. "I thought I'd finally be rid of her once we graduated," she said in an irritated tone.

"You were expecting her to go to one of those fancy colleges?" Monique asked. "We're talking Bonnie Rockwaller here, Kim. This was probably one of the fancier schools she could've got into."

"Yeah," Kim said. "But it doesn't mean she still has the right to make life hell for me here, too."

"Just roll with it," Monique said calmly to Kim, trying to get her to settle down. "If she's right, she'll be out of here in a year."

"That's so like her, too," Kim shot back. "That's her meal ticket out of here. Once Rodney goes pro, she thinks she'll just waltz out of here without a care in the world. She'll have made no progress here at campus and end up just living the good life on someone else's dime."

"Why are you letting that bother you?" Monique asked, gathering her books off the bench. "Let her live that lifestyle. You know what you're doing with your life. None of what she does is going to directly affect you."

"I know," Kim responded, starting to walk towards her class with Monique following closely behind her. "But it's the fact that there are people, like her, in this world who don't lift a finger to do something constructive in the world. Then, people like me go out and break our backs to accomplish something meaningful in our life and end up having to struggle day-to-day to make ends meet."

"Welcome to the real world, Kim," Monique said. "It ain't fair."

"It's not," Kim defeatedly responded. "I just hope that in four years, Ron and I can finally live a nice, quiet life together."

"You make it sound so simple," Monique chuckled.

Kim raised her brow to Monique, asking in a slightly hesitant tone, "What do you mean by that?"

"What if Ron goes pro?"

"Ron's not going pro," Kim rolled her eyes. "You saw how he played the last two weeks. Him playing in the PFL is just as possible as Bonnie making the honor roll."

"Ouch!" Monique laughed. "C'mon, now. Seriously. You don't think Ron could make it to the pros?"

Kim started to get irritated at Monique's line of questioning. "I've never put any thought into that, Mo. It's the very last thing on my mind right now."

"Don't have to get snooty at me," Monique responded. "I'm just saying that…"

"Ron's _not_ going pro, Monique!" Kim stopped, turned around and snipped at her friend. "Can we just drop the subject?"

Monique stopped dead in her tracks, looking at Kim for a few seconds. Kim's face was clearly showing that she was angry at Monique's seemingly innocent line of questioning. After a few tense seconds of both women looking at each other, Kim turned back around and continued on her path.

"Well, are we at least still on for lunch later?" Monique asked.

Kim stopped, realizing that she may have been a little too defensive to Monique. She let out a small sigh, turning around and making a few steps back towards her friend. "Yeah, I'm still up for lunch. What time is your class out?"

"I'll be done around quarter 'til twelve," Monique responded. "What about you?"

"Noon," Kim responded. "I was actually going to see if Ron wanted to join us. He's got morning practice, then doesn't have his classes until later on in the afternoon."

Monique nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good. Want to go ahead and meet up at the cafeteria around twelve-thirty to be on the safe side?"

"Sure," Kim nodded. "Shoot me a text if anything changes, though."

"I will," Monique said. "I'll catch you later, then."

Kim waved to Monique, "Yeah, I'll see you."

The two started down their separate paths to their classes. After a few steps, Kim stopped her progress, turned around and called back out, "Hey! Monique!"

Monique perked, looking back over to Kim. "What's up?"

"Is 'ridiculousness' even a word?" she grinned.

Monique stopped in her tracks, retrieving her paper from the previous night in her pile. She flipped through the pages, quickly skimming through them before she responded with a smirk, "That's a question for the professor."

"Let me know how that goes!" Kim laughed.

"I'll let you know at lunch," Monique responded. "See ya!"

Kim turned back around, continuing her progress to class. However, the thoughts and questions began to pile into Kim's head following Monique's line of inquiries.

_What if Ron does make it to the pros?_, she thought.

The years of being a world-renowned crimefighter were good to Kim. The notoriety of her Earth-saving actions were well known to the general public. She had seen her share of the limelight, now it was time for her to fade away from that persona and begin what she called a "normal life."

She knew that she wanted to start that life with Ron. She envisioned what almost every woman wanted in their lives: a family, a house, a career and a long, healthy life. She didn't want it any other way. It was time to let go of the heroine status and begin anew.

Kim was genuinely happy for Ron. A whole new personality had flourished from him once he started playing for the Middleton football team. The once conservative member of Team Possible had begun to add the element of risk and uncertainly into his life. To him, it was the thrill that he had missed out on until his late high school days. The predictable patterns of Ron were no longer existent.

Ron's short high school career catapulted him into the talk of the town. After he broke the school's rushing record in the final week of the season, the offers from universities started rolling in. At first, Ron was overwhelmed with the exposure that came with being a local celebrity. Every step of the way, Kim was there to lend her emotional support to him.

Ever since the end of summer, Kim had her doubts about everything. What if Ron did make it as a professional football player? The dreams of a quiet life after graduation would disappear. Kim would once again be catapulted into the spotlight via Ron's successes. All these years, Kim sacrificed her personal life to maintain a good standing to the public. Now, all she wanted her privacy back.

She saw Ron's football career as a threat to her dreams.

Kim made her way up the concrete steps leading to the lecture hall her class was in, making her way through the glass doorway into the main hallway. The thoughts of Monique's conversation still sticking with her as she made her way towards the far end of the hallway.

-BEEP BEEP-

Kim heard the sound of her cell phone from her left front jeans pocket. She leaned her side up against the wall of the hallway, pressing her books up against it as she reached inside for her cell phone. She flipped the screen up, which alerted her of an incoming text message.

"good luck 2day. luv u. – ron"

Kim smiled at the message on her screen, flipping the screen back down and placing the phone back into her pocket. She continued her way back down the hallway, finally arriving at her lecture room at the far end of the hallway. She used her free hand to open the door to the room, nudging it wider with her elbow as she slipped inside.

Ron was happy, but why wasn't she?


	3. We're Talkin' About Practice

**Chapter Three: We're Talkin' About Practice**

At the heart of the University of Upperton stood a giant open-roof domed structure. Over the years, fans and students flocked to this structure, known as Ruesch Stadium, every Saturday to cheer on their hometown team to victory. The field had seen its share of blood, sweat and tears from the gladiators who clashed against each other during the Fall season. The memories of stunning victories and the heartbreak of crushing defeats lived on within the confines of this stadium.

Just a couple of blocks away from the stadium laid the practice field for the Upperton Bearcats. Four days out of the week, the football team would participate in their morning practice session. Every Monday, the team would view their team film from the last game. Upon completion of viewing the team footage, the team then began to work on both their weaknesses and their strengths.

This week, there were more weaknesses than strenghts.

"Damnit, Tate!" barked a average build man from the sideline of the practice field, making his way towards the scrimmage line. He wore a orange ballcap on his head, which sported a full grey head of hair and a long grey mustache. His voice was deep and booming as he spoke to the team. "I don't know what the hell has got into you here the last couple of weeks, but you need to pull your head out of your ass!"

The Bearcats' past couple of seasons had seen their ups and downs. Five years ago, after a two-win season, Upperton hired former PFL coach Dusty Davich to take over coaching duties for the team. Davich was a grizzled veteran of the league, having won two PFL Championships in his 14-year playing career as a tight end. He was known during his professional coaching career to have a short temper which often resulted in classic blowups and rants during postgame press conferences that were broadcast nationally on news programs and sports shows.

After a rough first season with the team, Davich and his staff went hard at work on the next season's recruiting class. Weeks and months of travel to top-billed recruits all over the country resulted in some sleepless nights, but also resulted in the commitment of several highly-sought recruits. One of them happened to be the team's Senior quarterback, Rodney Tate.

"Sorry Coach," replied the toned, dark-skinned quarterback. "I just let that one get away from me."

The next few years with Tate behind center, Upperton's offense slowly began to build. What was once a team that struggled to consistently get first downs on offense soon flourished into a pass-heavy powerhouse that soared in conference rankings. The team would win their conference championship in Tate's sophomore year, the first in nearly three decades.

However, it wan not without a bit of controversy. Sports reporters soon started calling out Upperton on their one-dimensional offense, noting the lack of a running game in their losses. This was coupled with the rumor that Davich had given Tate full authority in play-calling in the huddle. This would come to factor in Upperton's disappointing 3-9 record the previous season. Many sports beat reporters began to criticize Davich on his weekly gameplan, expressing their opinions on how they believed Upperton's offensive scheme had become predictable to opposing defenses.

The problems weren't getting any better, either. The Bearcats dropped their first two games of the season. Their first game in embarrassing fashion, falling to Idaho State by a score of 48 to 6. Then last week, the team committed more turnovers than they had first downs in a defeat to Montana. Once again, local media began to wonder who really was in control of Upperton's football fate.

"You let _three_ of them get away from you last week!" shot back, taking his hand and shooting out three fingers towards Tate. "You need to make better reads out there, damnit! We've given the ball away too many times. That needs to stop. _Now."_

Rodney nodded, looking down at the field as Coach Davich continued his rant.

"We're not putting out the effort needed to win ballgames here, gentlemen." Coach Davich said as he scanned his eyes around the team. "You need to figure out what the hell you're doing wrong, because I won't hesitate to take your asses out and let some of these other guys get some playing time!"

On the sideline, the ears of the remaining members of the team perked upon hearing Coach Davich's ultimatum laid to the current starting roster. One of these ears was of the second-string halfback.

_Me? A starter?_, Ron thought to himself, holding his helmet in his right hand as he glanced around the rest of the backups that stood alongside of him on the sideline. _I'll be lucky not be be demoted to the third string after this past week._

Ron's life had turned upside down in the last year. What started as just an attempt to keep Kim interested in him during the early stages of their relationship turned into something that he could never have imagined. After the move to halfback during his season at Middleton, Ron found himself the star of the team on accident. All he was doing was something that he was accustomed to during his missions with Kim: Running like hell from impending danger.

The thing is, Ron was _too_ good at doing it. What began as merely an experiment by Coach Barkin as a last-ditch effort to sculpt an offense for Middleton after the departure of Brick Flagg quickly turned Ron into a local phenomenon. Ron put up astounding numbers during the rest of Middleton's season and became the talk of the town.

He was no longer the lovable loser that people made him out to be.

After the season ended, Ron found himself the host of a handful of visits from colleges who were interested in bringing Ron aboard to their football programs. There were a few hectic weekends in the Stoppable household during this time, with Ron and his mother doing their best to keep the house looking in top shape for each of the visits. Weekend plans that had been made for Ron and Kim were constantly being delayed or postponed depending on the arrivals and departures of Ron's guests, which had been the topic of a pair of arguments between the two during the Spring.

One of the final groups of people who came to visit Ron was Coach Davich and his staff. Coach Davich visited with Ron and his mother for close to two hours, explaining to Ron the benefits of playing at Upperton. Coach Davich made it clear to Ron that he would have the opportunity to take over the starting running back duties during his Junior season when John Markley left for graduation. He also told Ron that his first two seasons would see him in a goal-line and special teams capacity. This would give Ron plenty of time to learn the ins and outs of the team's offense.

After the departure of Coach Davich and his staff, Ron and his mother would spend an additional hour discussing what the Coach had offered Ron. The opportunity placed at Ron's feet was one of the best that he had heard from all of the candidates with the one selling point that stuck out the most being that Ron would be playing closer to home.

In the days that followed, Ron and Kim spoke quite frequently about Ron's offer from Upperton. He pleaded and begged for Kim to come with him. There were many calls, texts and face-to-face meetings between the two. At first, Kim's refusal to \go with Ron was very stern and straightforward. Each conversation that followed seemed to chip away at Kim's reluctance to join Ron. The final confrontation between the two led to one of their most emotional arguments during their relationship. During their heated exchange, it was suggested by Kim that the two go their separate ways. In that moment, Ron agreed with Kim that it was in their best interests to seperate.

After a few days of not speaking with each other, combined with the advice and suggestions from both their friends and families, Ron and Kim met to iron out their differences. Tears were shed and promises were made to one another about their futures during and after college. Ron was happy with the end result, knowing that Kim was going to come with him to Upperton.

A press conference was set just two weeks after Coach Davich's visit. Local news outlets all gathered into Middleton's gymnasium as the decision of what university Ron was going to select as his destination that upcoming fall. Even in the morning hours before his conference, Ron felt the butterflies in his stomach as he prepared his statement to the media. Kim helped Ron calm his fears by sticking with him during this time, giving her assistance to him with his statement. Kim knew she was in it for the long run, no matter what happened. However, she still retained some apprehensions to Ron's decision and how she managed to get talked into going with him. One thing still remained: She still loved him.

After his announcement, school officials began to prepare the welcoming committee for Ron's arrival. A preseason rally was organized by students and faculty to welcome Ron to the team, though his arrival was overshadowed by Rodney's narcissistic attitude. Ron was to give the final statement of the rally, but found himself being cut off by an overzealous Rodney near the end with his own statement for the upcoming season. These events caused a rift between Ron and Rodney before they could even play the first game of the season.

"Tate, let's give you a little break," Coach Davich said, motioning to the sideline. "Markley! You're in at halfback!"

Ron watched as the primary back, John Markley, placed his helmet on his black-haired head and made a sprint out towards the line of scrimmage. John was one of the smallest guys on the team. However, with what he lacked in size, he made up with his speed and agility. In fact, John led the conference in the previous season for rushing yards. However, his accomplishment would have been even larger had it not been for Rodney's play-calling during the season, taking away a few carries from John in the process.

"Wonder if he calls audibles during practice."

Ron turned his head to the right to Brett Trager, a thin and tall player sporting a shaggy head of hair and full beard, who was grinning from ear to ear after the comment that he had made. Brett and Ron hit it off quickly after the first team practice. Their common interests led to marathon gaming sessions late at night, including the occasional night owl run to Bueno Nacho on the weekends. Brett was in his sophomore season as a wide receiver for the team. While he had benefited from Rodney's selfish play-calling, he was one of the few players who had quickly become tired of the locker room politics that seemed to be hampering the team.

"If he does, be sure to get out there as fast as you can," Ron replied.

Brett responded with a chuckle and a light punch to Ron's right shoulder. "Yeah, but even that isn't worth it anymore. I can have two-hundred yards and three touchdowns in a game, but it don't mean a thing if we aren't winning."

"We'll get one," Ron said, watching as the practice play on the field went into action. "There's just a few kinks to work out."

"Kinks?" Brett raised his brow. "There's a lot more than just kinks that we need to get worked out, man. Something's got to change around here."

Ron looked back to the field, seeing John make his way past the line of scrimmage and speeding past defenders on his right side of the field. He sprinted down the right sideline of the field as some of the remaining defenders gave chase.

"I wish I could pull that off as easily as he does," Ron commented.

"Why cant you?" Brett asked. "You were doing it when you were at Middleton. There's not that much of a difference between there and here, you know."

"I don't know," Ron sighed. "Something's not there. I can't really explain it."

"You need a motivation, man," Brett suggested. "Find that one thing that motivates you to go out there and kick ass and take names."

"That's easy," Ron responded. "Her name's Kim."

"Dude, no offense," Brett said, placing his arm on Ron's shoulder pad. "But women aren't the best motivational tools."

"Why's that?" Ron asked with a slight hesitation.

"They're too emotional. When they get angry, you get angry. When they're sad, you get sad. Then when you break up, you don't know what you feel anymore."

"Kim and I don't have those problems," Ron said, dismissing Brett's statement.

"You're trying to tell me you guys never had any problems in your relationship?"

"I never said that. Everyone has problems in their relationships. Kim and I have had our bumps in the road, but we managed to get past them."

"But you just said you didn't have those problems."

"We don't _now._ But yeah, we had a fight or two during Senior year. That's nothing out of the ordinary between couples."

"Look, I'm not saying you need to dump her or anything. I'm just saying that you need t-"

"Stoppable! Trager!" barked Coach Davich from the field to the sideline. "Let's go!"

The two quickly reached for their helmets, sprinting onto the field as they secured them on their heads. They met with the rest of the huddle as two other players jogged back towards the sideline.

"Alright, this is one that didn't go well last game, fellas," Coach Davich said. "We need to nail this one down. Tate: Split Set, two-four-three-six X on three." Rodney nodded the play call. "Stoppable, stay back and block." Ron nodded to his assignment.

The last time the team called this play, Ron allowed his defender to go in uncontested to Rodney. This resulted in Upperton turning over possession via a fumble inside their own twenty-yard line and led to a scoring play for their opponents. When Ron decided to take the offer from Upperton, he didn't realize that his responsibilities would be far greater than those he shouldered at Middleton.

"Down!" barked Rodney, signaling for the players to get set for the upcoming play.

Ron looked past the defensive line, spotting a middle linebacker hovering just above the line as Rodney began his count.

"Blue eighty-three!"

This seemed like familiar territory to Ron. It was the same exact set up that he had seen in the game prior. Same play, same spot on the field, same linebacker movement...

"Blue eighty-three!"

...just this time, there was a huge grin on the linebacker's face.

"Blue eighty-three, hike!"

The ball was snapped to Rodney by the center. Rodney clutched the ball near his chest with both hands, taking a few steps backwards in the pocket to make his appropriate read. At the same time, Ron set himself back to the right of where Rodney stood, anticipating the assigned linebacker that was sprinting in his direction.

_Okay, Ron. Focus. Make the block this time._

The linebacker spun around the right guard, making his way to Ron's position. Ron braced himself for the encounter, gritting his teeth and widening his stance.

_This is my field._

The charging linebacker continued his path towards Ron.

_This is my quarterback._

Ron could see the whites of the linebacker's eyes.

_This..._

Ron then saw the sneer on the linebacker's face.

_...is going to hurt._

Before Ron could do anything else, he felt the force of the charging three-hundred pound linebacker slam into his chest. The hit sent Ron flying backwards, landing on his back with his momentum sending him rolling upside down and finally resting on his stomach. A whistle blew from just a few inches from where Ron laid.

"Stoppable!" he heard Coach Davich shout. "Back on your feet!"

Ron slowly made his way back to a standing position, looking over at Rodney being helped up by his teammates. His glance in that direction was interrupted as he saw a hand grasp onto his facemask and pull it to the side, to the direction of a visibly angry Coach Davich.

"I don't know what the hell you're doing out there," Coach Davich said in an aggravated tone. "But I swear to God, Stoppable. If your actions, or lack thereof, cost me my quarterback one day..." Coach Davich then pressed his forehead against Ron's helmet. "_You. Are. History!"_

Coach Davich turned away from Ron, focusing his attention back to Rodney as he dusted himself off from the last play. "We're running that play again," he stated. "We're going to run it until we get it right!"

Several of the players on the field glanced over at Ron, who couldn't help but try to look away from the nearly two-dozen players giving him a death stare. He saw Coach Davich speaking to Rodney, but couldn't make out what the two were talking about. Coach Davich then patted Rodney on the shoulderpad and started walking back over to Ron. He placed his hands on his hips, staring directly into Ron's eyes.

"I want you to do me a favor, Stoppable," he began. "I want you to try something out for me." Ron nodded. "I want you to imagine, when we run this play, that Rodney is someone you care about. I don't care if it's your mother, your sister, your brother... I could care less who you want it to be."

Ron raised his brow to the Coach, taking in the conditions that he was setting up for the next runthrough.

"Protect Rodney like you'd protect any person in your family. Use that fire inside of you, kid. I know it's there." Coach Davich said in a encouraging tone. "Show me the fire inside, son." He finished this with a slap against Ron's helmet, walking away from him towards the far sideline.

As the rest of the team took their positions on the field, Ron couldn't help but to feel a little hesitant to incorporate Coach Davich's suggestion into his mental preparation. He set himself in position, his mind racing in anticipation of the play. He then closed his eyes, running mentally through the people in his life.

"Blue eighty-three!"

The one person in his life he'd protect, no matter the cost.

"Blue eighty-three!"

Ron opened his eyes, once again his eyes met with the linebacker from the previous runthrough. Ron knew he was coming right for him once again.

But as he turned to look at Rodney once again, he saw something that didn't quite fit in with the picture. The muscular, dark-skinned quarterback that he was used to seeing taking the snap was a shorter, light-skinned person with a flowing red ponytail coming from the back of the team's helmet.

"Blue eighty-three, hike!"

This time, Ron heard the voice of Kim calling for the snap. Completely bewildered, he kept his eyes focused on Kim as she stepped back into the pocket with the ball clasped in her hands.

"Kim? What are you doing he-"

::CRACK!::

Ron was blindsided by the linebacker, being thrown once again violently onto his back. For a split second, he had no idea what had happened to him. He heard the whistle once more and sat up to look at the result of the play. As he turned to the right, he saw Kim laying in a heap on the ground, her face turned away from him.

"Kim?" Ron called. "Kim!"

Ron quickly rose to his feet in a panic, running towards Kim. He saw the linebacker standing above Kim as he got closer. He felt a rush of emotion overcome him as he focused his vision on the man who laid Kim out.

"You son of a bitch!" he shouted as he ran up and gave the linebacker who stood next to Kim a shove, sending the linebacker crashing down on his back.

"What the hell, Stoppable?"

Ron turned his attention back down to the ground where he thought Kim laid. Instead, he saw the puzzled look of Rodney as he sat up from the ground. Ron squinted for a second, making sure he was actually seeing Rodney on the ground instead of Kim. It had all felt too real to him.

"You got a problem with me, Stoppable?" bellowed the linebacker as he returned to his feet.

Ron stepped back a bit as the linebacker began to make his way to him. However, his progress was cut short as a handful of Upperton players got in-between the two.

"Alright, alright! Break it up!" yelled Coach Davich, trying to break up the scuffle. "Everyone just cool off for a bit!" He glanced back at Ron, who still looked a bit confused about the events that had just transpired. "Stoppable, go cool off." he said, pointing towards the sideline.

Ron's expression didn't change much as he turned around to head back towards the sideline. He kept wondering what had just transpired in the last few minutes. He had never felt the emotions that poured out of him before. The sense of helplessness he felt when he couldn't protect who he thought was Kim, then followed by the immense rage he felt afterward completely drained him emotionally.

Ron tugged on the chinstrap of his helmet, unfastening it as he made his way through the rest of the players that stood at the sideline. He didn't even bother making eye contact with anyone else on the field, he just maintained his pace all the way through until he reached one of the long benches towards the back of the group. He removed his helmet, placing it on the bench and taking a seat beside it. He took his hands and brushed them through his hair, then took them and covered his face as one thought crossed his mind.

_Even if it really wasn't her, I still feel like I let her down._


	4. The Drive

Hey guys!

I wanted to say that I know there's a good chunk of you reading of this story, so I want to thank you for taking the time and checking my story out.

I encourage your comments and critiques, so please leave them!

On a story note, I was intending for this chapter to be a bit longer. However, I didn't want to overwhelm a chapter with too much. So, I've already got a good start set on Chapter 5.

Again, thanks for reading! Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four: The Drive<strong>

Mike opened his eyes, looking straight up into the blue sky above him. His eyes scanned the sky, seeing a few clouds litter the otherwise bright blue scenery that hovered above him. He then peered down a bit, noticing a slight discrepancy in his vision. He started to lift his arm to see what was hovering just below his chin.

"Hang on, Mike!" called a voice. "Don't move, buddy."

Mike didn't recognize the voice that just spoke to him. Soon, his mind began to race with thought. Was he unconscious? Did he get blindsided by someone or something? He felt well enough, so he didn't think that something was physically wrong with him. He laid still on the ground as he awaited some sort of visual aid to assist him to his well-being and whereabouts.

"Might want to get the cart ready," the voice said.

_Cart? What the hell happened to me?_

_::10-4, medical cart on standby.::_

Mike suddenly went into panic mode. Something happened to him, but he couldn't remember a thing. Was he bleeding? Was he missing a body part? He didn't know and he didn't want to risk any further injury to himself by finding out on his own. His body was overcome with an unknowing fear as he waited for someone to fill him in.

Suddenly, a head popped up from the left side of Mike's vision. The face of a middle-aged man with a receding black hairline and glasses met eye-to-eye with Mike.

"Morning, sunshine," the mystery man said. "You feeling alright?"

Mike stared right at him with a look of confusion on his face. It seemed as if the man completely knew who Mike was, but Mike had no clue who was speaking to him. How did he know him?

"I, uh..." Mike started, still running through his library of mental photographs to try and distinguish who this stranger was. "Yeah, I think I'm alright."

"Took a hell of a hit," the man stated. "I figured I'd have to get out the smelling salts for you."

"Hit?" Mike asked, a look of confusion on his face. "Something hit me?"

"About two-hundred and eighty pounds of linebacker," the man commented. "Helmet-to-helmet, too. That'll be a helluva fine from the league."

Taking in all that the man had said, Mike actually felt quite fine. He didn't recall any of the events that the man had informed him of. Then again, if the hit were that vicious he probably wouldn't have remembered it to begin with.

"Let's take the safe route and get the cart out to take you off the field," the man said to Mike.

"I'm fine," Mike protested. "Let me try and get up on my own."

"C'mon, Mike. I don't want to take that risk."

"Look," Mike snipped. "I don't know how you know my name and I have no clue who you are. Just lay off and give me some space!"

"You don't know who I am?" asked the man. "You're serious?"

Mike had enough, sitting up as he directed his response to the man. "Yeah, I'm serious. I honestly have no idea wh-"

Before he could finish, a deafening roar echoed in Mike's ears. Mike slightly winced at the noise, quickly looking for the source of the noise. What he saw astounded him.

"What the..."

The source of the noise just so happened to fill the seats of the stadium that surrounded him. The sight was quite overwhelming to Mike. He had never personally seen so many people at once. As the cheers continued, he looked down at his chest. He quickly recognized the sky blue colored jersey that he was wearing along with the black pants with a blue stripe down the side.

"Holy..."

His number that he played with during his career at Middleton, sixteen, was displayed on the front of the jersey. Everything started to click inside Mike's head with every piece of information that he came across.

He was playing with the Denver Stampede.

"Need a hand?"

Mike quickly looked back at the hand extended by the still unknown man down to him. He then shot a look of hesitance towards the stranger, not particularly comfortable with not knowing who he was.

"Are you sure everything's okay, man?" the man asked.

"Yeah, I feel good," Mike nodded, placing his hand into the man's. "But you'll probably doubt that statement after my next question."

"Shoot," responded the man, helping Mike to his feet.

Mike stood up, once again prompting another round of cheers from the fans in the stadium. "Who are you?" Mike asked, almost having to shout his query.

"I'm...Ed," the man replied, looking Mike over once more with a bit of concern on his face. "You know, the medical trainer for the team?"

Mike played along with Ed's statement, not trying to set off a flag. "Oh, I knew that. You just have to realize that sometimes I'm terrible with names." Mike followed this with a nervous chuckle, hoping Ed would buy his excuse.

Ed raised his brow to Mike's statement, reaching down towards his waist and retrieving a walkie-talkie from his belt clip. He brought it up to his mouth, clicking on the button on the device's side.

"Hey, go ahead and cancel that cart request. I think we're fine here."

_::10-4.::_

Ed patted Mike on the back, "Alright, man. Let's see what Coach has got to say before we put you out there. I still have my reservations."

Mike nodded, starting his path towards the sideline with Ed alongside him. The crowd once again roared with approval as they saw him make his way over to the team's sideline. There, a smattering of applause came from Mike's teammates after seeing that he wasn't hurt. Although, there was one person on the sidelines whose demeanor didn't blend in with the rest of the team's.

"McCage!" barked an older man with small oval glasses, sporting a light blue windbreaker and a hat of the same color that sported the team's logo: A trio of white stallions that ran from left to right that overlapped a giant black "D" in the background. "I better not have wasted my last damn timeout because you wanted to take a break in-between plays!"

Mike recognized the man who showed his sympathy, or lack thereof, to him. Coach Dave Thanos was a staple of the Denver organization, having spent nearly thirteen seasons with the team and leading them to three PFL Championships in his first five seasons. Coach Thanos was responsible of creating Denver's first dynasty period in franchise history.

"He got his bell rung, Coach," chimed Ed. "I definitely want to run some tests on him after the game."

"Can he play now, though?" asked Coach Thanos.

"He can," Ed responded. "But I'm honestly hesitant to let him back out on the field from my standpoint."

"How so?"

"Coach, he didn't even remember my name when I went out there."

Coach Thanos looked Mike over, stroking his chin as he absorbed the information coming from Ed. "You think it's serious?" he asked.

"I won't know for sure until we do some tests," Ed responded. "My suggestion is to let Sutterfield take over for the remainder of the game. To me, there's no sense to possibly risk McCage's hea-"

"I can play, Coach," Mike butted in, glancing over at Ed as he spoke. Even though he was unaware of the situation on the field, the competitive spirit that resided in him usually overrode his common sense. "I feel fine, regardless of what anyone else tells you."

"Coach, don't take the chance," Ed responded, sensing hostility from Mike's response. "Let Sutterfield finish out here. I can have McCage tested, rested and ready for the playoffs."

Coach Thanos looked Mike over, his arms folded out in front of him with his clipboard firmly pressed against his chest. "We're playing for the bye week today, Ed. We can get that two-seed with a win."

"I know, Coach," Ed replied. "But is it worth further injury to your quarterback just to get that bye week?"

"Further injury?" Coach Thanos raised his brow. "Who said my quarterback is injured?"

"Coach, he probably suffered a concussion with that last hit. I told you that he didn't even remember my name when I—."

"Here, Ed," Coach Thanos interrupted, holding his finger up towards Ed. "Why don't we get the definitive answer about the health of my quarterback?" He then focused his attention back to Mike. "Son, how do you feel?"

"I feel like a million bucks, Coach," Mike replied with a smirk.

Coach Thanos nodded, once again directing his attention back to Ed. "My quarterback says he feels good, Ed. I don't need to run any fancy-schmancy tests to get that answer."

"Coach, he can say whatever he wants," Ed replied in a bit of a forceful tone. "Just because he says he's okay does—"

"Are you questioning my authority, Ed?" Coach Thanos growled, taking a few steps toward the short medical trailer. "I think you've forgot who has the final say when it comes to these matters."

"Yeah," Ed shot back. "The owner has that final say. Go ahead and let McCage play. But if something happens to him, you better believe that I will tell him that I suggested that McCage sit for the remainder of the game."

"Fine," Coach Thanos scoffed. "And if McCage wins this game for us, you better be looking for a new job."

Coach Thanos' reply caught Ed off-guard. He opened his mouth in attempt to reply to the ultimatum, glancing between both the cold stares being shot in his direction by Coach Thanos and Mike. Defeated, Ed huffed and made his way past the two towards the back of the team sideline.

"They think they know everything, right Coach?" McCage grinned, trying to initiate some small talk between the two.

"Stifle it, McCage," Coach Thanos hissed, causing Mike to wipe the grin off of his face. "He's probably right, anyways. But at this particular point, my faith in putting Sutterfield in is low. Very low."

"Won't let you down, Coach," Mike replied with confidence. His reply was quickly followed by the sound of a whistle ringing from the field of play.

"Sixty yards in thirty-seven seconds," Coach Thanos said, glancing down at his clipboard. "Don't have a lot of plays that can get us that far in that time. So, we're either going to see here if you're full of confidence…" He glared over at Mike before he finished. "…or full of shit."

Mike chuckled, strapping the chinstrap back onto his helmet. "I'll let you know in thirty-seven seconds, Coach." Once he secured the chinstrap, he ran back onto the field to meet with the rest of his team. His trek to the huddle once again stirred the crowd into a round of cheers and applause. Once he arrived, the huddle opened up a little to allow him to enter.

"Alright, fellas," McCage began. "Who wants to take next week off?" The question elicited a unified positive response from Mike's teammates. "Good, then we've got to earn it today. We've got to get in that endzone for that to happen."

_::-KKT- Mike, we're going with the Gun for the rest of the way out.::_

Mike heard the voice of Coach Thanos through the earpiece on the right side of his helmet, paying attention to his transmissions from the sideline.

_::Gun, back right, double-slant eagle on one::_

Mike scanned the rest of the team as heard the call over his headset. He didn't recognize the play from any of his previous football encounters. The team looked at Mike, waiting for him to call the upcoming play. Mike, on the other hand, responded to each of them with a "deer in headlights" look.

"Uh…" Mike stammered. "Gun, back right, double-slant eagle on one."

The team clapped in unison, turning their attention to the spot of the ball and lining up in their designated assignments on their own forty-yard line. Mike blinked, a confused look on his face as he watched the team set the next offensive play up. He hadn't even moved from the original spot of the huddle.

_::McCage! Let's go! Fifteen on the play clock!::_

Mike jumped at the scolding tone of Coach Thanos' voice from his headset, jogging towards the center of the offensive line.

_I hope these guys know what they're doing, because I sure as hell don't,_ he thought.

Mike took his position a few steps behind the center, making a quick read of the opposing defense. The defenders in front of him wore white jerseys with green numbers, helmets and pants with a yellow stripe down the sides.

_::Get the play off!::_

Mike glanced from his read to the play clock positioned at the far end zone…

[06]

Mike took one more look at the opposing defense…

[05]

"Down!" Mike barked, starting to panic as he fought the clock.

[04]

Mike peered once more across the offensive line, watching as the opposing linebacker stepped towards the line.

[03]

_Blitz. No time for an audible…_

[02]

_Here goes nothing…_

[01]

"Red eighty-nine! HIKE!"

The ball jumped from the center, quickly reaching its intended destination of Mike's grasp just a mere moment before the play clock expired. Mike dropped back two steps, making reads of the offense's routes. Routes that he had never seen before. He couldn't explain why he didn't know them.

The blitzing linebacker made his way past the offensive line, making a direct route to Mike's position. However, his progress was cut short by the running back who was assigned to stay behind and block on Mike's right hand sign.

_That explains the "back right"…_

Mike stared down the middle of the field, now a bit open with the linebacker eliminating himself from pass coverage. As he surveyed the area, he noticed an aqua blue figure running into his line of vision. Instinctively, he threw the ball right down the middle of the field. The ball whizzed over the heads of both lines as it found the hands of one of the wide receivers. The receiver ran towards the right sideline, picking up a block from one of his fellow receivers as he managed to get out of bounds near the opposing team's forty-four yard line.

[0:29]

Mike rose his hands above his head, clapping in the direction of the receiver and showing his respect for the last play. The team huddled back a few yards from the spot of the ball, once again waiting to hear the next play to be called from the sidelines.

"Keep an eye out on the linebacker," Mike suggested. "They're going to keep bringing pressure for the rest of the game."

_::-KKT- Alright. Gun, back right, Naco Platter on two.::_

Mike's facial expression changed from one of confidence to one of confusion upon the Coach's play call. He stepped out from the huddle and looked towards the sideline, making a rolling motion with his arms to signal for the play again through his headset.

_::Gun, back right. Naco Platter on two.::_

Mike had heard the call right. He rejoined the huddle, even more confused than before.

"Gun, back right..." he scanned the huddle again, almost not wanting to say the second half of the play. "...Naco Platter on two?"

The team once again clapped in unison at the conclusion of the play call. Once again, Mike was the last to leave the huddle. He positioned himself the same way from the previous play, watching as three receivers lined up on the left side of the offensive line.

Mike saw the opposing linebacker show blitz to him once again. He smirked, clapping his hands once as he prepared for the next play.

"Red eighty-nine!"

Mike took one more glimpse at the defensive scheme, noticing that the defenders were playing a few steps off of the line.

"Red eighty-nine! HIKE!"

The center snapped the ball to Mike, who took two steps back to give his receivers time to make some room between themselves and their defenders. As he saw the innermost receiver break towards the middle of the field, he saw a green helmet pop up in his vision.

"Shhhiiii..."

Mike rolled to the right as the linebacker gave chase, palming the ball in his left hand as he bolted towards the far sideline. He peeked back to his intended receiver, seeing the gap of open field between the two begin to shrink. Mike brought his left hand back and threw a wobbly pass towards the receiver as he felt the linebacker's hands upon his back, pushing him out of the field of play and sent crashing into the opposing sideline. The ball landed in the arms of the intended receiver, who was brought down quickly by the opposing safety.

Mike laid on his stomach on the opposing sideline. He raised himself up from the ground, looking up at the faces of the opposing team. The sight was pretty intimidating, seeing the huge builds of the players who weren't even on the field at the time. To put it quite bluntly, Mike was in the most hostile territory in his own stadium.

_::-KKT- TO THE LINE! TO THE LINE!::_

Mike perked at the commotion coming through his headset, quickly rising to his feet and turning around to face the field. He saw the referee take the ball from the receiver, trying to spot the ball properly on the opposing thirty-one yard line. He began to run back onto the field of play, frantically pointing towards the area where the ball was being spotted.

[0:20]

"Go! Go!" Mike yelled. "Get on the line! Hurry!"

The Stampede players quickly rushed towards the new line of scrimmage, trying to line up just behind the spot of the ball. Mike was the furthest from the line, making a mad dash towards it.

[0:15]

"Just line up!" Mike barked, pointing at one side of the line's receivers as he positioned himself directly behind the center. He scanned the line once more to make sure everyone was lined up onside to the line of scrimmage.

"HIKE!"

Mike took the direct hand off from the center, taking the ball and spiking it to the ground. The referees blew their whistles, signaling the end of the play.

[0:11]

Mike huffed as he walked a few paces from the line, the team gathering around him. The team couldn't afford to let something like that to happen again. He looked down at his jersey, spying the grass stains that collected on it after the previous play.

_::-KKT- Alright, we're going Gun, all slants and a large diet cola on two::_

Mike didn't even bother asking for the call again, wondering if Coach Thanos was more interested in the game or his dinner plans. "Gun, all slants on two." The team once again clapped after the call, with Mike joining in the action this time. They all moved to the line of scrimmage, two wide receivers on the left and three receivers on the right.

"Red, eighty-nine!"

The linebacker who had brought pressure to Mike stepped back into coverage, looking to stop the pass this time around. The defense played a deep coverage, looking to avoid from giving up the long ball with such little time left in the game.

"Red, eighty-nine! HIKE!"

Mike caught the snap from the center, bouncing a few times in the pocket as the defense only sent three defensive lineman to pressure him. His eyes darted between all five of his possible targets, trying to find the blemish in the defense's scheme.

[0:07]

He watched out of the corner of his eye as one matchup between his lineman and his defensive assignment whizzed by to his left side. With this, he rolled to the left, palming the ball in one hand as he tried to find his read.

[0:05]

Mike saw a receiver bolt towards the right sideline, his defender slipping upon his pursuit of him. Mike quickly drew back and fired a pass to the receiver, but felt something wrong upon his release.

_Shit! I felt that one get loose..._

The ball arched higher than Mike had intended. The receiver began to run a bit further upfield in an attempt to make the reception. He stopped just mere inches from the sideline, reaching his arms up and making fingertip contact with the ball. With all the strength in his fingers, he managed to bring the ball in, falling backwards and out of bounds. A referee rushed to the spot of the pass, waving his hands to signify a clock stoppage. He then made another motion to confirm that a reception had been made on the play at the nine-yard line.

[0:01]

The crowd was sent into a frenzy upon the referee's signal. Mike pumped his fist in the year, giving a shout of enthusiasm as he watched the play that had been made by his wide receiver. He jogged down the field, knowing that he would get one last shot for the win.

The team exchanged high-fives as they gathered around for the last huddle of the game. Mike met them in the huddle, slapping the back of the receiver from the last play on his left shoulderpad.

"Hell of a catch, man!" Mike beamed. "We can do this, gang! We've got them on the ropes! All we've got to do now is finish them."

_::-KKT- Alright, kid. Here's what we're going to do here: We're going to a sin-KKT-::_

Mike winced at the second break-in on his headset, sounding louder than before. He looked back at the sideline, watching as Coach Thanos was talking. Mike couldn't hear anything that he was saying, though. He made the "repeat the call" motion to the sideline, but still couldn't hear Coach Thanos on his end. He tapped on the side of his helmet, trying to indicate that the receiver was malfunctioning in his helmet. Coach Thanos then looked down the sideline, appearing to be shouting at someone further down.

As he tried to see if something could be done about his situation, Mike glanced back at the play clock at the wall of the endzone.

[10]

"Alright, we don't have time," Mike said in a panicked tone. "Same play as before on one, let's get it done."

The team clapped one more time, lining up quickly to the line to repeat the same previous play. Mike felt tense as he rushed to beat the play clock once more.

[05]

_You've done this before, Mike. This is nothing new._

Mike breathed in.

[04]

Mike breathed out.

[03]

And for that moment, it was that single breath that he could hear.

[02]

"Red eighty-nine! HIKE!"

The roar of the crowd once again filled his ears, taking the snap from the center as he tried to do a quick read of the defense.

_::-KKT- Mike! What are you doing?::_

He ignored the transmission from his headset, watching as the receiver all ran towards the left-center portion of the field.

_::Mike! We really need your help up here!::_

Mike noticed the right side of the field open up. His linesman had managed to hold the defenders back well far from where he stood.

_::We're getting slammed up here! We can't keep up!::_

Mike bolted to the right side of the field, tucking the ball underneath his arm as he ran towards the endzone.

_::Hello? Mike?::_

Mike noticed the voice in his headset transform into a woman's voice. He kept running towards the endzone, watching as the defenders began to abandon their route assignments and chase him down.

_::Mike!::_

As he closed in on the endzone, one of the defenders swung out towards the goal line to try and halt Mike's progress.

_::Mike, wake up!::_

Mike locked eyes with the defender, lowering his head and bracing for the impact that he was about to feel.

**SLAM!**

"MIKE!"

The sound of a fist pounding against the back room desk sent Mike jolting his head up from it, sending a few papers that resided under the folded arms that acted as his pillow flying about the small room. He blinked a few times, squinting a little as he saw a young, blonde-haired woman standing at the doorway of the office. Her eyes were slit and her arms were crossed as she covered the microphone of her headset with her hand.

"We're, like, totally slammed for lunch right now," she snipped. "I hate to interrupt your nap time or whatever, but we really need someone to help out on drive-thru."

Mike blinked once more, taking a look around his surroundings before taking his hand and rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, sorry Laura," he yawned, adjusting the drive-thru headset that he apparently forgot to remove upon his nap. "Give me a minute and I'll get right on it. I just need to sort some stuff here for a second." He looked down at the small pile of papers that had been strewn about after his wake-up call.

"Whatever," Laura scoffed, turning around and heading back out into the kitchen area of the restaurant.

Mike sighed, bending down and picking a few pieces of paper from off of the floor and placing them back on the desk. He straightened his nametag a little, standing up and taking a stretch before he decided to head back out into the real world.

Mike cleared his throat, lowering the microphone portion of the headset in front of his mouth and clicking the button on the side. "Welcome to Bueno Nacho, home of the Naco, how can I take your order?"

Some days, he wished that he wouldn't wake up.


	5. Lunch Break

Hello there!

Been a bit of time since I uploaded a new chapter. Blame that on a combination of work, homework and other personal matters. Forgive the delay here.

Hope you guys enjoy the next chapter! Thanks for reading!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five: Lunch Break<strong>

The sun rested overhead directly above the campus, signaling the midway point of the busy campus day. The area outside of the cafeteria building acted as a central hub for the students that traveled to and from their classes for the day. Several pathways that spanned through different areas of the campus all met in a large circle that was marked with the university's logo: A single paw print with "Upperton" in the center of the paw.

Around the circle were several benches that went around the entire area. On one of these benches, Kim sat with her pile of books on her lap. She looked around the hub, searching all around for any glimpse of Monique for their lunch meet up.

"Come on, Mo," Kim muttered. "I'm starvin' here."

Kim checked the time on her cell phone, which read 12:50. Usually, Monique would give Kim as heads up if she were running late or had a last-minute change of plans. Kim scrolled her phone's contact list for Monique's number, clicking on the desired entry and holding the phone to her ear as the call dialed out.

"_Hey, you've reached Monique. I can't get to my phone right now..."_

Kim groaned as she hung the call up on her phone. Monique usually responded to Kim's calls or texts rather quickly, so she was a bit curious in why she hadn't heard back from her yet. She closed her phone placed it back in her right front pocket.

"Heads up!"

Kim heard the tiny voice's warning and quickly looked up, noticing a small, oblong object heading her way. She quickly leaned to her left as it zoomed past her and landed in some small shrubbery behind her. After watching the unidentified flying object make its crash landing, she turned back towards the area of the pathway where she thought the object had come from.

What Kim saw coming her way was a young, slender, blonde-haired girl who sported a green "Upperton" hoodie and jeans. The girl waved her hand at Kim to signify that she was the one to whom the ball belonged to.

"Hey!" the girl called out. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Kim responded, placing her books to the right of where she was sitting and rising to meet the girl as she approached. "What was that, anyways?"

"Oh, that was our football," the blonde replied as she arrived to Kim's position. "Sorry about that."

"It's no big," Kim replied with a smile. "But I'd certainly tell your boyfriend to chill out a little bit with his throws."

The blonde let out a chuckle. "My boyfriend wishes he had a throw like that," she grinned.

Kim raised a brow to the girl, giving her another look over as she processed that last statement. "Wait, that was _you_ who threw that?"

"Yup!" the blonde replied perkily. "However, you _can_ blame him for not catching that last pass."

Kim let out a chuckle to the girl's response, but was still a bit stunned at the revelation that the girl in front of her was responsible for the errant throw. "Is your boyfriend on the football team?" she asked.

The blonde shook her head. "Nope, he's just a student here. We're both sophomores." After presenting that fact to Kim, she extended her hand out to her. "I'm Michelle Benson."

Kim extended her hand out to Michelle, giving it a quick shake. "Kim Possible, it's my first semester here."

"You're Kim Possible?" Michelle excitedly asked. "I've heard so much about you! All of my friends were talking about you coming here over the summer!"

"A lot of people were," Kim smiled. "You would almost think nothing else happened here on campus."

"Well," Michelle drew out. "That's partly true. Things just aren't particularly exciting around here. Don't get me wrong, we're not boring by any stretch. There's a lot of fun events that happen here. But our sports teams? Not so much."

"That's what my boyfriend had mentioned," Kim nodded. "He said that there was a lot of work to be done with the football team."

"Oh, he's on the football team?" Michelle inquired.

"Yeah, Ron Stoppable," Kim answered. "He's a running back for the team."

"Ron Stoppable is your boyfriend?" Michelle prodded.

Kim was a little surprised at the reaction she got from mentioning her relationship with Ron, hesitating for a second before she responded. "Uh, yeah. He is."

"Oh wow!" Michelle enthusiastically exclaimed. "You're pretty lucky."

"Lucky?" Kim responded, puzzled by Michelle's statement. "I'm not sure what you're getting at."

"Well, Ron's in line to be the next big thing here on campus after Rodney Tate leaves," Michelle explained. "There's a lot of hype around campus about what he could do to get the team back to the conference championships again."

"He's played two games," Kim responded. "I highly doubt that the campus could come to that kind of conclusion after only two games.

Michelle froze for a second, figuring that Kim would respond differently to her praise of Ron. "Oh, well…" Michelle trailed off. "I suppose you're right. He's still got a lot of time to prove that."

"He does," Kim answered quickly and flatly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Sensing the conversation was heading downhill quickly, Michelle peered over Kim's shoulder towards the shrubbery that her ball had landed in. "My ball fell over there, right?"

Kim stepped aside to let Michelle retrieve her ball. "Yeah, it fell in over here." Kim pointed the tip of the ball that was stuck out from the brush to her.

"Thanks," Michelle grinned, walking towards the brush. "So, have you pledged with anyone?"

"Yeah, I have," Kim responded. "Kappa Phi Omega."

"Nice," Michelle commented as she reached in to retrieve the ball. "I pledged with Sigma Omega. Hey, have you signed up for the Powderpuff Bowl?"

"Powderpuff Bowl?" Kim asked.

"Yeah, that's the annual campus sorority football game," Michelle explained as she lifted the ball from the brush and tucked it under her right arm. "There's two teams made up of members from all the sororities here on campus. We play after the last football game before we go on Thanksgiving break."

"Never heard of it up until now," Kim said. "But that's not really my thing. Not particularly into football."

"That's a shame," Michelle remarked. "I think you'd have a blast, though." Michelle then thought for a second, perking up as an idea came across her mind, "Hey! Why don't you at least come to the meeting tonight? You'd meet a bunch of the other girls here on campus."

"Like I said," Kim quickly responded, "I'm not really into football that much."

"Don't worry!" Michelle replied. "You don't have to commit to the event if you come to the meeting. I'm just offering you an opportunity to come and meet some of the other sorority members here. Promise."

"Well…" Kim hesitated, thinking about Michelle's offer for a moment. "I don't know. I'd really like to come and all but…"

"We'll be there!" a voice interrupted.

Kim turned and noticed Monique walking up to her, grinning from ear to ear and placing her arm around Kim's shoulders. "Of course, I hope that invitation is also open for a sorority sister of Ms. Possible's," Monique added.

"Of course!" Michelle excitedly responded. "The more girls we get to come, the better!"

"That sounds great," Monique said. "Mark us down, we'll be there!"

Kim didn't even have the chance to interject into Michelle and Monique's conversation, she instead gave her friend a disapproving glare as she was now talked into attending the meeting that night.

"Great!" Michelle gushed. "It's at six tonight over at the recreation hall. You both know where that is?"

"Yeah, I'm familiar with it," Monique answered. "Anything we need to bring?"

"Nope, just come and meet some of the other girls," Michelle said. "However, I don't think I caught your name."

"Monique," Monique extended her hand out to Michelle, introducing herself.

"Monique, great!" Michelle said as she gave Monique's hand a quick shake. "I'll see you both tonight!" she said as she started to walk from the two.

"See ya!" Monique said, focusing her attention back to less than thrilled Kim. "Looks like we've got plans for tonight."

Kim broke away from Monique's grasp around her shoulder, a look of disbelief on her face as she started to speak. "What was that all about?" Kim snipped. "Why did you do that?"

"Chill," Monique calmly replied. "I just figured that it wouldn't hurt to get to know some of the other girls around here on campus. Why are you acting like I just volunteered you to scrub the entire cafeteria down with a toothbrush?"

"Because I really didn't want to go," Kim shot back. "I had little to no interest on what that whole thing was all about."

"You heard her," Monique responded. "She said you didn't have to commit to the event. She was just trying to have you come and be social. Is it really that much of a big deal?"

"Wait," Kim said. "How long were you listening to our conversation?"

"I got up here as she was digging in that brush behind you for something," Monique explained. "I was just over here to the side, actually. Surprised you didn't see me."

"Sorry," Kim shrugged. "She was just getting a bit personal with me there for a second. I was a bit focused on what she was talking about."

"Which was?" Monique asked.

"Just…" Kim started, but stopped herself before she could say exactly what had got her into a defensive mindset. "…it got a bit personal. That's it."

"She was talking about Ron, wasn't she?" Monique asked, a grin on her face letting Kim know exactly where she was getting at.

"It was _personal,_ Monique," Kim shot back.

"See? This is what happens when you're on an empty stomach," Monique said, pointing at Kim. "You get grouchy. I think we need to stop with all the chit-chat and get us some grub."

"Yeah," Kim sighed, gathering her books from the bench and tucking them in her right arm. "Maybe that's what's wrong."

"I take it Ron's already inside?" Monique asked, starting to walk towards the cafeteria.

"No," Kim shook her head, following closely behind Monique. "I actually haven't even seen him yet. I told him we were going to be here around this time. Perhaps practice ran late?"

"Could have," Monique responded.

Kim and Monique both walked down the pathway towards the entrance of the cafeteria, Monique opening the glass door entrance of the building and allowing Kim to enter first, Monique following close behind. The spacious cafeteria of the university housed campus-ran and franchised eateries that the students could frequent at almost any time during the school week. The lunch rush was certainly at its peak, with long lines and packed tables full of students and faculty looking to catch a quick bite before continuing their busy days.

"Girl, I am starving," Monique said, rubbing her stomach with her free hand.

"I hear that," Kim agreed, peering around the cafeteria at the choices she had for her lunch. "It's just the matter of what I'm in the mood for right now."

"I could totally do fried rice right now at Panda-Monium," Monique commented.

"Oooh," Kim cooed. "Chicken fried rice sounds delish right now."

"I'll second that!" came a voice from behind her.

Kim turned around, looking as Ron walked towards the two. "In fact, I think I'll buy this round of lunch for the two lovely ladies that are standing right here in front of me." He then produced his wallet from his jeans, pulling out the campus meal card from one of the card slots.

"Such a gentleman you are, Mr. Stoppable," Kim remarked, walking up to him and placing her free right hand around Ron's right side of his waist.

"Shh, not so loud," Ron replied in a jokingly hushed tone, wrapping his hands around Kim's waist. "I don't want too many people knowing about that!"

Kim giggled, leaning in and giving her boyfriend a peck on the lips. "I thought you were going to meet us outside."

"Actually, I was just a few steps behind you two. Saw you both talking before you went in and tried to get the door for you both," Ron explained.

"I see," Kim remarked. "So, how was practice?"

"Well," Ron began, feeling a bit uneased at the events from the morning's practice session. "It was...practicey? Is that a word? Because if it is, that's what I'm going with."

"Pretty sure it's not," Kim smirked. "But I'll take that as a sign that things went well."

Ron faked a grin to Kim, wanting to not set off a round of questioning over practice. He didn't know how he would be able to explain to Kim what he experienced.

"Hey," Monique chimed. "How about you two grab the grub, and I'll try and find us a table in this sea of madness?"

"That's a plan," Kim responded. "Chicken or shrimp?"

"Shrimp," Monique responded. "And tell them not to skimp on it this time, too!" Monique then pointed to Ron. "Moreso for the fact that this guy is paying."

"Oh, I see what it is," Ron responded in a mock tone of outrage. "Gonna have me tell them to pile the shrimp sky high on an inch of rice? I see what your game is, Monique."

"Hey," Monique responded with a grin. "Don't be flashin' that meal card around me. All you're going to get is trouble."

Ron chuckled, placing his arm around Kim. "Alright, I'll tell them not to skimp on the shrimp. But only this time, as long as the next round is on you."

"Deal," Monique smiled. "Alright, let me go find us a spot. I'll wave you guys down when I see you get out of line. Oh, let me take those, Kim." Monique pointed to Kim's books, offering her other hand out to take them from her.

"Thanks," Kim replied, handing her stack of books into Monique's hands, who turned and walked into the large seating area for an opening for the three of them.

Kim turned her attention back to Ron, leaning into her boyfriend a little with a relaxed sigh. "So, what's the occasion?"

"Occasion?" Ron replied, seeming a bit off-guard from Kim's question. "No occasion, just felt like buying lunch this time around."

Kim raised a brow to Ron's response. "The only time you do something that nice is when you've either screwed something up or had bad news to share with me."

Ron started to walk towards the line for Panda-Monium with Kim walking alongside. Part of him wanted to tell Kim what had actually happened at practice that morning. At the same time, he didn't want her to know that he felt like he was letting her down.

"Well," Ron started, removing his arm from around Kim and placing his hands in his pockets. "Things could be going a bit better."

"Rough practice?" Kim asked.

"I guess," Ron shrugged. "Just having some problems getting the new system down."

Kim tilted her head onto Ron's shoulder, taking hold of his arm as they made their way into line. "Don't worry about it. You're going to do fine. It's just going to take a little time to get adjusted," she soothingly replied

Ron looked down at Kim, grinning. "Yeah. There's still a lot of time left for that, I suppose."

The two locked eyes for a moment. All the questions, all the doubts, all of the drama they both were going through seemed to disappear when they were with each other. Even if behind their smiles, everything was far from perfect.

It was almost if they had to wear masks every time they were together.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Fwoosh!<strong>_

A stream of water jetted from the faucet of the sink in the back area of Bueno Nacho's kitchen area, gushing on top of a blackened blob that sat inside of a yellow cardboard box. Mike and Laura stood above the sink, waving their hands in front of their faces from the smoky odor that met them from the burned appetizer sitting below them.

Mike turned the faucet off, looking down to make sure the quick blast from the faucet did its job in extinguishing one of the latest kitchen disasters from the young day shift cooks. He placed both of his hands on the sides of the sink, bending down and examining the now soggy box and its contents.

"What is it?" Laura asked, trying to glance around Mike's left shoulder into the sink.

Mike stayed silent as he took his right hand from the side of the sink and reached into it. He hovered his hand above the blob first, trying to judge if the food was cooled down enough to examine it. After feeling no heat reaching to the palm of his hand, he reached down a bit further and plucked a piece off of the blackened pile, starting to raise it up to view it from a closer perspective. The triangular shape of the piece that Mike had grabbed immediately came to his attention.

"How…" he began to say, turning the piece around to view it from all angles.

Mike looked back down at the blob once again, taking his right index finger and poking it into the center. After wiggling his finger around for a moment, he pulled his finger up and out of the blob. Upon doing so, he watched as his finger exited from the blob and had now been covered in a dark orange substance that coagulated around his digit.

Mike studied the color that now covered his finger, bringing it up to his nose to try if he could distinguish any smell that came from the blob. He sniffed a few times, confirming the mental conclusion that he had come to after inspecting the piece he picked out. He peered over to Laura, looking to see if she could add anything to the detective work Mike was now in charge of.

"What?" Laura shrugged with a hint of irritation in her voice. "What are you looking at me for?"

Mike quickly deducted that Laura was not going to play Watson to his Holmes in this mystery. He stood up and turned around at the trio of cooks that stood together and watched the entire process that Mike went through with either a dumbfounded look or a mask of indifference on their faces.

"How in the hell…" Mike started, grabbing a rag that rested on the side of the sink and wiping the substance off of his finger. "…do you burn _nachos?_"

The cooks looked at each other for a moment, each looking to see if the other could give an explanation to the end result of their last order to Mike. Instead of explaining their actions, each of the cooks covered their mouths in a futile attempt to hide their snickering from Mike.

"Yeah, I'm glad this is funny to you guys," Mike responded, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "What if something else would've caught fire because of your guys' carelessness? Then what?"

"Chill out, boss," one of the cooks replied, handing Mike a slip of paper that he held in his left hand. "We just did what we were told."

Mike cocked a brow to the young cook, who still had a wide grin on his face as he handed Mike the paper. Mike snatched the slip from the cook's hand, recognizing the Bueno Nacho watermark on the back of it. He flipped it over to the appropriate side to read the printout properly:

"1 – MOLTEN NACHO BASKET

SPECIAL"

Mike looked back over to Laura. "Special?" he said. "What was the special for on this?"

"The customer requested to me to make it as hot as we could," Laura replied. "I just figured these nimrods would just flood the thing with the Diablo Sauce."

Mike looked back once again over to the cooks, each of them grinning from ear to ear. He slammed the slip down on the side of the sink, stepping towards the troublesome trio as he spoke in a low, yet forceful tone.

"Listen here, you little smart-asses," he began. "The little comedy troupe act you're putting on here is just going to get you all a one-way ticket to the unemployment line. I'm not going to put up with this _bullshit…_"

"Mike?" Laura attempted to interrupt his rant against the cooks, looking out towards the serving area.

"…that you all think is _funny._ Because that's not what I consider this little incident here. There's nothing funny about what you little dicks do around here…"

"Mike?" Laura spoke up a bit louder, tugging on his left sleeve.

"…you bring down service in the middle of the damn _lunch rush_, I'm always having to get on all three of you to do _something_ around here…"

"Mike!" Laura pulled on his sleeve even harder, almost as if she were trying to pull the sleeve off of his shirt. This finally caught the attention of Mike, who whipped around to face Laura.

"_WHAT?"_ Mike shouted, his face becoming slightly red from the dressing down he was giving to the three cooks.

Laura was taken back from Mike's tone, practically frozen from the response that she got. She attempted to respond to him, but couldn't utter a word out as she opened her mouth. Instead, she turned her body towards the service counter of the restaurant and pointed to a tall, skinny, dark-haired male sporting a light-blue button-up polo and khaki pants entering the restaurant.

"Chuck's here," Laura finally spoke.

The "Chuck" that Laura spoke of just so happened to be a district manager for Bueno Nacho, often dropping in on stores to observe if the standards and practices of the franchise were properly being met by each franchisee.

"I thought he was just here last week," Laura commented.

"He was," Mike replied, seeming surprised at Chuck's visit. "I have no idea why he's back. Everything was up to code when he did his inspections."

"Maybe it's not about an inspection," Laura theorized. "Maybe it's about something else."

"Or someone else," chimed one of the cooks, his reply causing Mike to turn back and glare at him. In response, the cook just smirked back at Mike. Before Mike could verbally retort to the cook, Laura snapped her fingers next to Mike's left ear, causing him to wince slightly as he turned back to her.

"Cut the macho act," Laura said sternly. "Get over there and see why he's here. He came all the way out here for a reason."

Mike turned his head quickly back to the cooks, letting out a quick sigh and returning his focus back to Laura. "You're right," he nodded. "Just keep an eye out on these guys while I see what's up."

Laura nodded to Mike's request as she took her left hand and gently gave him a shove towards the front of the store, causing him to skid slightly as he began to walk from the group in the back. As he walked, he took a second to check to see if his nametag was straightened.

"Mike McCage!" bellowed Chuck as he walked towards the counter to meet Mike. "How are ya, buddy?" Chuck extended his hand out to Mike as he finished his enthusiastic greeting.

Mike reached out and shook Chuck's hand, grinning a bit to hide the uneasiness he felt due to Chuck's unannounced appearance. "Doing good, Chuck."

"Good to hear," Chuck replied. "How's things going with the store?"

"Going good," Mike said. "We're really catching fire here." Mike's eyes widened a bit as he finished his sentence, realizing the personal choice of words probably wasn't the best even if Chuck was unaware of the recent problems. "In terms of sales, that is."

"Great to hear!" Chuck beamed. "You guys have done quite the job of turning this place around."

"Couldn't do it without the staff here," Mike replied. "The guys here work hard and do their best around here."

_You are a bold-faced liar, Mike McCage._

"Good," Chuck said. "Well, that's partially the reason why I stopped in today."

_Uh oh._

Mike gulped, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Oh? Are we doing some more hiring for the holidays or something?"

"No," Chuck shook his head. "It has to do with you, actually." He then looked outside of the restaurant towards the outdoor picnic area in front of the restaurant. "You have a few minutes to chat outside?"

Mike started to get a bad vibe from Chuck's request, wondering if the unemployment line was in his future. "Uh, yeah. I've got a couple of minutes to spare, unless we get busy again."

"No problem," Chuck returned with a pat on Mike's back. "This won't take long, anyways."

Mike led the way out of the restaurant, holding the door as Chuck followed him out into the crisp autumn air. They walked towards the right side of the entrance where one of a handful of picnic benches were set.

"Weather's been halfway decent here lately," Mike commented, scooting himself into the side of one of the picnic benches and sitting down near the center of the bench.

"That it has," Chuck replied, securing his seat on the opposite side of Mike. "The season is changing."

Mike decided to follow on Chuck's thought. "Let me guess, that's not the only thing that's going to be changing around here. Right?"

Chuck looked at Mike for a second, then let out a small chuckle. "Well, I guess I don't have to beat around the bush with you."

Mike nodded. "Well, you were just here last week. I had to imagine that your visit here had something to do with either me or my staff."

Chuck folded his hands in front of him on the table. "Well, you're right. I came here to talk with you about your status with the company."

Mike was anticipating the worst.

"You've been the day manager here at this store for almost two years now," Chuck began. "You've done quite well since taking over managerial duties since Howard left. You've hired responsible employees…"

_Questionable._

"...you've came in and helped us out when we needed you without complaining…"

_I complained about it when you weren't here._

"…I've never received a complaint about you from customers or staff…"

_They're called bribes, Chuck._

"…and the quality of the product has been very consistent, according to our customers."

_Don't look in the garbage can in the back._

"Well, I'm glad to hear I'm getting these high marks," Mike said. "However, it sounds as if you're setting me up for something."

"I am," Chuck replied. "I came here to tell you that you are no longer going to be working at this location."

Mike stared at Chuck for a second after he finished his last sentence with a dozen thoughts running through his mind and the tranquil sounds of the autumn afternoon echoing in his ears. After all of the years of service to the company, he was being let go? Just like that?

"Someone who has done such a great job with the company..." Chuck began, ending what seemed to be an eternity of silence to Mike. "…deserves the opportunity to head their own location."

Mike raised his brow to Chuck, wondering if he had heard what he thought he had heard come from his boss' mouth. "You're giving me my own location?"

"Sure am," Chuck grinned. "You deserve the opportunity."

Mike's tension from the discussion seemed to go away, letting his guard down from the termination he thought was coming from Chuck at the beginning of the conversation.

"Well," Mike began. "I certainly appreciate the consideration and everything. I really do. But I really don't feel like relocating anywhere or having to make a long drive to a new…"

"Not going to be a problem," Chuck interrupted. "Your new location isn't particularly too far from this one."

"I hope you're not sending me to 582," Mike groaned. "I told you I'm not comfortable with going up there."

"No, 582 is still under construction," Chuck replied. "…again."

"Still?" Mike chuckled. "You mean 'Wonder Woman'…" Mike emphasized the name with the addition of finger quotes as he said it. "…hasn't lent her assistance towards rebuilding 582?"

"Well, the one you call 'Wonder Woman'…" Chuck began. "Just might happen to be one of your future customers at your new location, Mike."

Mike's expression went from a jovial one to a disbelieving gaze to his boss. "You're seriously not going to put me at the new location at Upperton University are you?"

"That's exactly what I'd like to do," Chuck replied.

"Chuck, no," Mike refused, waving his hand across his body to emphasize his dissatisfaction with his new assignment. "I deal enough with the college crowd as is at this location. I don't want to have to deal with that kind of customer base eight hours a day."

"But that's the customer base that accounts for a significant percentage of the sales here," Chuck explained. "This location will more than likely take a hit when we open the campus location up, but it can be made up for with the projections we have for the university location."

"I thought Amber was next in line for a promotion?" Mike asked.

"Amber just went on maternity leave," Chuck responded. "But yes, Amber was next in line for a promotion with the company."

"So, I'm a last resort?" Mike shot back, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I never said you were a last resort, Mike," Chuck stated. "But you're the only one I can think of within the district that would know what to do over there."

"Chuck, listen," Mike began. "I appreciate you thinking of me for this promotion. I really do. But I'm just not interested, considering the factors that you've stated."

"Mike, I'm in a tough spot here," Chuck began to beg. "This thing opens next week and I don't have a manager in line. If you don't like it there, I'll have Amber take over once she gets back from her leave."

"Chuck, I'm sorry," Mike said, starting to stand from the bench. "I'm not interested in the position." Mike then extended his hand out to Chuck.

Chuck looked at Mike's hand, still sitting on the other side of the bench. He looked up at Mike, a bit confused on why Mike wouldn't take his offer. His eyes darted from side to side for a second, trying to figure out what he was going to do next.

"Mike, I need someone at that location on Monday," Chuck explained. "I just need you to fill in for only a few months. This isn't a permanent position or anything."

"Sorry," Mike responded, feeling a bit sorry for Chuck's situation. "It's just not something I'm interested in."

Defeated, Chuck slowly brought his hand up and shook Mike's hand. Mike stepped over the bench of the picnic table and began to make his way back towards the entrance of the restaurant. Chuck stood up, watching Mike starting to make his way back. He slid along the table and reached the end, stepping out and taking a few steps towards Mike's pathway. Chuck sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets and trying to figure out what to do next.

Then, desperation mode kicked in.

"Three weeks paid vacation," Chuck called out to Mike.

Mike's hand gripped the entrance handle to the door, but he didn't pull on it. Chuck's new offer froze Mike right in front of the entryway of the restaurant. .He looked up and stared directly into his faint reflection in the glass door in front of him. He saw Chuck slowly make his way up towards the entryway out of the side of his reflection.

"No questions asked, no restrictions, whenever you want to take it," Chuck said, trying to sell the added bonus to taking the position.

Mike turned his head back to Chuck, knowing he was now in a position to negotiate his terms in moving to the new location. "Well, Chuck," he started. "You sure don't give up when you want something done, do you?"

"I'm in a rough spot," Chuck shrugged. "I just really need your help right now, Mike. Everyone else has said the same thing you have."

"So, I _am_ a last resort?" Mike asked, his tone changing to one that knew what the answer to his question was going to be.

"Yeah," Chuck sighed, hanging his head. "You're kind of my last hope here."

Mike looked at the ground, shaking his head and letting out a small chuckle. "Well, Chuck," Mike began. "Tell you what. If you can give me two weeks paid vacation and a raise…" he hesitated, letting out a sigh before he finished. "Then fine, I'll go over there and man the ship."

Chuck raised his head, his eyes widened as he heard Mike's verbal commitment. "Really?" he asked excitedly. "You'll really do it?"

"Two weeks and a raise, Chuck," Mike said, extending his hand out to him. "If you shake on that, then we've got a deal."

Chuck's mouth busted out into a wide grin, reaching out quickly to shake Mike's hand.

"You've got a deal," Chuck responded happily.

The door opened to the office of Coach Davich, a hand reaching inside the doorway and flipping a light on to illuminate the room.

"I tell ya, Mitch," Coach Davich began, pushing the door open with his body and entering the room. The room was decorated with Upperton knick-knacks, photos and framed newspaper articles from Coach Davich's previous successes. "We're not ready for these guys on Saturday."

Following him was a middle-aged man with dark hair, light skin and a large binder tucked beneath his left arm. "We've got a bit of time, Dad," replied Mitch, Coach Davich's son and offensive coordinator.

Coach Davich walked over to his desk that was positioned towards the back wall of the room. "All the time in the world can't straighten out the mess we've got, son," he said.

"Well," Mitch started, taking a seat at one of the two chairs that sat in front of the Coach's desk. "What exactly do we need to put the most focus into?"

"Witchcraft," Coach Davich joked, bending down towards the mini-fridge positioned just behind his desk against the wall and pulling the door open. "Voodoo is even acceptable at this point. Our offense is a complete joke out there. You saw what happened on Saturday." He grabbed a can of diet cola and a brown paper bag from the fridge, closing the door with his right foot as he stood back up. "I don't know what the hell Tate's problem is."

"Tate's problem is Tate," Mitch quickly replied. "Dad, he's not respecting the play call out there. There were at least four audibles that he called last game that didn't need to be called. He's trying to run this offense on his own and he doesn't know what he's doing."

"He knows what he's doing," Coach Davich said, defending Rodney. "None of these other guys know what the hell to do when he switches the play up."

"He's causing unnecessary chaos," Mitch retorted. "The plays I called were perfectly acceptable for the situations we were put in. There was no reason for him to call as many audibles as he did."

"He's doing his best out there," Coach Davich shot back, placing the items he held in his hands down on the desk as he lowered into his seat. "If he's changing your calls so much, then you're obviously not calling the right plays."

"You know what, Dad," Mitch leaned towards his desk, becoming irritated at his father's stubbornness. "I went through this all of last season, too. You haven't defended me once since I took this job, which I took because Anthony wouldn't put up with the same crap I'm going through right now"

"Anthony was here before I even started," Coach Davich replied. "He had got so used to failure around here that his departure was inevitable." He popped the top off of his soda, lifting it up and taking a sip before he continued. "Also, correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't remember holding a gun to your head and telling you to come and join me here"

"I know, Dad," Mitch replied, trying to calm down a bit. "And I appreciate everything you've done for me. But I'm just getting really frustrated with this whole situation. You have to give me the benefit of the doubt sometimes."

"I don't have to give you anything," Coach Davich sternly retorted. "I didn't get anything in my playing days, nor when I started coaching. Everything you get, you earn on your own. Just because you're my son doesn't mean that I'm going to give you any special treatment."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Mitch asked. "Why am I even here? If Rodney is going to have the final say here, there's not even a need for me to be on this staff."

"Mitch," Coach Davich sighed. "You know why I'm in this situation." He paused, running his right hand through his hair before continuing. "You know what I had to do to get Rodney here."

"I'm fully aware of what you had to do, Dad," Mitch replied, looking off to the side as he spoke.

"Then you know the repercussions of what would happen if someone were to find out," Coach Davich said. "I promised Rodney a lot when he came here. In the same regard, I also sacrificed a lot."

Both men sat in silence for a second, only the ticking of the wall clock in Coach Davich's office could be heard as they both searched for what could be said next in a sensitive matter.

"Dad, if he ratted on you he would be screwed, too," Mitch spoke in a low tone.

"He wouldn't rat on me," Coach Davich replied. "His parents would. All they would have to do is go to the local media and make something up on how I wasn't giving them the money I promised them." He then reached out and held up one of the local publications to his son. "And at this point, the local media isn't particularly fond of me. They would have a field day with it."

Mitch nodded his understanding to the matter, but at the same time couldn't help but to feel sorry for his father. He knew his father's desire to win got the best of him at times. But in this situation, he had gone just a bit too far in his quest to be the best.

"Did you do the same thing with this Stoppable kid?" Mitch inquired.

"No," Coach Davich shook his head. "That kid made the decision to come here on his own. Hopefully, once Tate gets out of here, I can start fresh with him."

"You might need the help of a psychiatrist first before you even begin to work on him," Mitch commented. "What the hell happened during practice today? I totally missed it."

"I have no clue," Coach Davich shrugged. "I tried to motivate the kid. Next thing I know, he's charging my linebacker with the intent of a mad man."

"What did you say to motivate him?" Mitch asked.

"Well," Coach Davich began, opening the brown bag to his left side before he continued. "I told him that he needed to protect Rodney like he was someone that he really cared about. I didn't see any harm in that."

"Well, he almost tore into the guy!" Mitch exclaimed. "He obviously took your advice a bit more seriously than you were anticipating."

"How was I supposed to know that was going to happen?" Coach Davich countered. "I'm not a damn mind-reader, Mitch. The kid obviously has some issues that need to be ironed out before we put him back in the running back fold."

"You mean you're taking him off of the depth chart?" Mitch asked.

"I am, for at least the time being," Coach Davich replied, reaching into the brown bag and removing a sandwich that was enclosed in a small plastic bag along with an apple. "However, I want to give the kid a few shots on what he can do, though. So, I'm going to move him to our special teams and let him return a few punts for us."

"Okay," Mitch agreed. "We'll get him situated there after we figure out what's going on with him."

"Don't bother," Coach Davich scoffed, removing his sandwich from the bag. "Whatever issues the kid has, we can deal with that once we get him primed to take over for running back duties. And at this rate…" He stopped, taking a bite out of the sandwich he just unwrapped. "...that's probably not going to happen until next season, at the earliest."

"Dad," Mitch began. "If there was one thing Mom always told me, it was to not talk with your mouth full." Mitch smiled after he finished his motherly words of wisdom to his father.

"Your mother says lots of things, son," Coach Davich grinned. "Doesn't mean I have to listen to her."

Both men let out a chuckle at that last comment. Even through the hassles of running a collegiate football team, there was always the one brief moment during the day that they could have a quick bonding moment. A brief moment of sanity, to say the least.

"Alright," Coach Davich began. "Break out the playbook and let's get the game plan set for Saturday while we're here..."


End file.
